


The Vixen

by MysteryMagic



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-01-31 14:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteryMagic/pseuds/MysteryMagic
Summary: This story follows the path of someone who turns pity into malice and revenge into a lifestyle. Someone who doesn't believe in love's power and strays from what little good she has in her heart.Myriad is a far with the rare ability to leech magic from other face, leaving them husks of their former selves. Myriad worked for and was Amarantha's secret pet, spy and lover. After the Queen's death, Myriad leaves to live in solace. On her journey, she's captured by Hybern and set with a task to complete.During this time she falls in with the Inner Circle by a chance meeting with a male from her past. She must then gain their trust, in turn, discovering things about herself in the process.(This follows the ending of A Court of Thorns and Roses thru to the end of the series. May have some romance? Not sure yet.)(Roughly inspired by Disney's Maleficent.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This here is the prologue! I know, it's short, it sucks...don't kill me y'all. I promise it'll be good!

The Fae male had come to her for a summer. It had been like a flame had opened in her heart and her life had been bathed in sunlight and happiness. They had connected, not a mating bond, nothing so strong as that…but it had been love. Until she had come to him with the news that she was with child. His child.  
Then her lover had gone. One night, he’d laid with her, they rejoiced, or so she had thought, in the news of the child. She woke up the next morning to him gone, her bed empty and cold. She had stayed there for him, waiting coming back every day to the place they had made love, spent time; but the Autumn Court Fae had left. He left her with an unborn child to go back to the Illyrian camps, back to her husband, alone.   
She had been too numb to feel pain or anger. Fear clogged her senses, knowing what her husband would do if he found out about the bastard child she bore. However, the Illyrian female went back, back to her camp, to the gray, depressing place she called home. Gone was the flame and fire her lover had brought her.  
Months and weeks passed and harder it became for her to hide her secret, until one night, he found out. The beating she got lasted close to dawn and after that, battered, bruised, her wings tattered and useless, she was thrown outside the camp. Abandoned, the yet to be mother dragged herself back to the place she had begun to call home, a cave on the edge of Night Court, in the mountains, where her lover had ruined her. Any love she had in her heart was gone, destroyed and replaced by a black hatred. Hatred for her people but especially for the Fae, who had done this, betrayed her and left her alone.   
In the heart of winter, the child was born. A baby girl with red hair like autumn leaves. No wings graced her tiny shoulders, perhaps a blessing. She was precious, a little flame in her mother’s life again.   
The child grew well and beautiful, healthy. Her mother taught her never to go outside the cave they lived in for fear she’d be taken from her. She taught her of the cruelty of the Illyrians and the selfishness of the Fae. She warned her daughter to never trust anyone but herself…but most of all to never fall in love. Love brought only pain and suffering.  
So the girl grew up quietly, accompanied simply by herself. The girl’s name was Myriad.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, just finished this to whet your appetites. Again, please comment! It gives me great joy and also lets me knw what you guys like and how I'm keeping you guys happy. Also, sorry for the other short chapter...
> 
> On another note, I think I'll start regular posting after the holidays and after I have some story built up to post.

Chapter One

Fourteen years later

Myriad knew her mother had told her not to wander far from the cave but it was autumn! Her favorite time of year when the mountain trees turned a gorgeous shade of red and gold and roses held their last bloom. The air itself smelled amazing, crisp and cool. She just had to go out. Her mother was out anyway.  
So Myriad went out, skipping and singing as she made it down the mountains, unaware of where she was going, not that she cared. Her red hair and golden kissed skin glowed in her innocent happiness, unbound and curly. Her mother had never told her about her parentage, or the dangers of being half High Fae. Unlike Illyrians, Myriad had the slim pointed ears of her father, something she’d never be accepted by her people.  
The girl didn't keep track of the time or where she was going as she sang and walked down the mountain, stopping by every blooming flower or bare tree she found. So far down did she walk that she found herself walking through trees that were showing signs of other living beings. Only then did Myriad realize her mistake. Through not paying attention, she had walked herself to the outskirts of an Illyrian encampment. Fear pooled in Myriad's stomach and she skirted behind a tree. Underneath the fear was a sense of curiosity. What was it that made her mother hate these people so much?  
So she kept walking, moving from tree to tree till she saw tents and could smell fires, hear male voices yelling and laughing, crass and loud. She frowned, her brows pulling together as she moved forward. She finally simply crouched behind a tent, hoping to get a glance at these winged people.  
It was her curiosity and foolishness that caused Myriad to not hear the Illyrian male walk behind her till it was too late and she was grabbed by her arms and hauled upwards. She screamed, naturally and struggled, eyes wide with fear.  
“Let me go!!”  
She was rewarded with a blow to the back of her head, hard enough to stun her into silence. She was effortlessly carried into the encampment, past several curious and sneering onlookers. She felt threatened and scared. Her capture dragged her to a large tent and ducked inside, pulling her after him.  
There seemed to be a meeting of a sort going on because there were a lot of winged men gathered in a circle around a map. She was roughly thrown forward, trying to stop herself as she ended up in a gangly pile in the dirt. Shaking, Myriad didn’t look up, she kept her eyes on her hands now caked in dirt.  
“Who’s this?” The Illyrian leader asked, looking down his crooked nose at the girl. She looked and smelled odd. She had no wings, so she wasn’t Illyrian, yet she was definitely not a human. Fae perhaps but…what would an unknown Fae be doing wandering into an Illyrian war camp?  
“I found her spying on the edge of the camp. Don’t know what she wants, thought you might be interested,” Myriad’s capture replied. Myriad heard the leader stand up and she stiffened when she saw his boots in the dirt in front of her hands, almost stepping on her slender fingers.  
The Illyrian bent down and crouched in front of Myriad, taking her in.  
“Look at me, girl.”  
Myriad couldn’t look at him, frozen as she was. She was grabbed instead by the jaw in a bruising grip and forced to look up. Her gold eyes were wide with terror as she stifled a whimper. The male in front of her was rugged, old, and cruel in appearance. He had no pity or gentleness in his eyes. He looked and felt every bit a warrior. That frightened Myriad.  
The Illyrian did however seem to recognize Myriad. His grip suddenly became brutally hard, forcing a cry from the girl.  
“I know you…what is your name?” he growled. Myriad couldn’t reply even if she tried.  
“Torin, you’re going to break the brat’s jaw. You’ll never get an answer from her then,” Someone behind Torin said. The male growled and threw Myriad down, getting up.  
“Speak girl, before I really do break your miserable jaw.”  
Myriad shakily wiped her mouth, stifling the sobs that racked her little frame.  
“M-Myriad…m’lord,” she said hoarsely.  
The Illyrian laughed at her and walked forward, staring down at her like she was some sort of farm animal being sized up for the dinner table.  
“Myriad. What a foolish name. You know what it means? Myriad?”  
Myriad was almost afraid to know what it meant. Not that she really cared what it meant. She simply wanted to go home and forget these winged men.  
Torin crouched again and got in Myriad’s face, grabbing her shirt collar in a tight grip. His breath smelled awful so close to her face as it was. Myriad struggled to distance herself.  
“Fox. That’s what it means…and we all know what foxes get up to. They’re spies, miserable flea ridden dogs that come in the dead of night to steal and kill. Is that what she sent you to do, Fox? Is that what that bitch did?”  
“I-I wasn’t spying,” Myriad sobbed, now struggling to breath. Torin picked Myriad up, strangling her now. His dark eyes looked at her almost piteously.  
“Of course you weren’t.”  
Torin threw Myriad down, watching the girl gasp for breath. He snapped his fingers at some of his soldiers.  
“Take the girl to the cages, make sure it’s guarded. Her mother may come back looking for her,” he said. He went to look back at his map, and then turned around, a wicked look in his eyes. “Oh. Have some fun with her, ripe little thing like that.”  
The soldiers laughed and one of the picked Myriad up, slinging her over his shoulder roughly. Deep down, Myriad knew what Torin had meant and she struggled all the harder, trying in vain to break free.  
The girl was taken out of the tent and Torin crossed his arms behind his back, brooding. So Lydia was possibly still alive. The girl proved that at least. He snarled to himself. Well now he had bait for that bitch. He thought he had shown that cheating bitch the cost of making a fool of him. No, she had to send her bastard daughter to do spy on him.  
Screams touched Torin’s ears as his soldiers had their way with the girl. Perhaps Lydia would come for the girl. Then he could show her what happened to those who made a fool of him…and he’d start it with the girl.


	3. Capter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, I'm sorry! Anyway, I decided for the flow of the story to change the narrative to first person POV. I liked the way it came out and I feel it keeps with the feeling of ACOTAR writing style. I hope I got Rhys as well as possible without seeming OOC. God I don't want him to be OOC! He's one of my favorites. Be gentle with me, guys....

Chapter Two

I had the same dream last night that I usually when I came back from my work. It still shook me to my very bones every time I woke from it. Perhaps it was the place I know called my home, though my heart wasn’t entirely in it.  
Under the Mountain wasn’t my ideal place to rest my head, but it served and the money was good. Along with the money came power and fear, both of which I enjoyed thoroughly. Amarantha had taken me in as well, that was acceptance, a feeling that had been foreign to me for as long as I remembered. My very own mother hadn’t truly accepted me.  
I slipped from my bed, flinging the dark covers off myself. My feet hit the cold stone floor and I sat there, staring into the darkness for a minute, thinking about the dream I had. Well, it wasn’t actually a dream, it was a memory, the kind one likes to hide away in the back of their head to pretend like it never happened. I was one of those who tried that.   
Oh yes, that had happened to me at the tender age of fourteen. Even when I have screamed for my mother, for those Illyrian bastards to stop, screamed till my voice went out, they’d still taken me and taken their sweet time doing so. I remember it had been late that night before they had stopped and left me on the ground of the cage, bloodied and sobbing.   
I wasn’t that weak anymore.   
I ran my hand through my short curls. I had cut my hair as close to my scalp as possible, if only to keep the annoying strands from my face when I went out for Amamrantha.  
I was her spy of a sorts, her huntress. What was it Torin had called me? Oh yes, fox. I was a vixen, cunning. I liked that.   
I finally stood up from my bed and flicked the candle by my bed alight with my finger; fire, a gift from my Autumn court father.   
My chamber lit up with the soft glow of the candle, shadows bouncing along the wall like marionettes. I found my boots where I’d left them by my armoire and slipped them on. I grabbed my jacket from the bedpost and threw it on over my nightclothes. I needed to walk.

*** *** ***

My shoes made no sound on the stone floor as I walked. The sounds of moaning and screams from Amarantha’s unfortunate victims reached my ears and despite myself, I did shudder as I felt gooseflesh rise along my arms. I kept walking though, whatever they had done to deserve Amarantha’s ill will, there was nothing I could do about even if I wanted to, so I kept walking.  
As I walked, I suddenly felt it, like eyes on the back of my head. I knew I was being watched and I didn’t like it. I stopped and put a hand on the knife in my coat. My eyes searched the shadows behind, me nostrils flaring as I caught a scent I only ever smelled from a distance.  
“You can come out, Highlord,” I said quietly. My voice sounded horribly high and childish in my head. “We haven’t been acquainted yet I don’t think.”  
The shadows melted, the very darkness yielding to the Night Court Highlord’s will, as if it was part of him. I widened my stance, ready to fight or run, though I most likely would have run.   
He was beautiful, skin like the moon, hair as black as the shadows that clung to him. His eyes were of a blue so deep they seemed violet, in them though I could see a hint of that unyielding power and oldness that told me he could mist me into a cloud of blood with half a thought. That made my stomach churn but I kept the loose smirk on my lips as I surveyed him.  
“No bed warming tonight? Or are you on your way?” I asked.  
Rhysand leaned against the stone wall of the corridor and smirked at me, his full lips twisting in the most sensual expression I’d ever seen. I wanted to slap him because of it.  
“Well now that you’d given it away, I don’t think you could get away with slapping me. Let alone get the expression off my face,” Rhysand said finally. I blanched and it showed. Rhysand simply smirked more, eyeing me up and down. I crossed my arms tighter over my chest and narrowed my eyes.  
“Is spying on the first bit of skirt you see the only thing you’re good at or perhaps Amarantha keeps you around for other things,” I snapped. “For a whore, you don’t seem very useful.”  
Rhysand didn’t seem to be offended in the slightest bit. His eyes met mine and I immediately averted them, choosing to look at his shoulder instead. I felt a claw run down the back of my head and I stiffened.  
“I have skills Amarantha enjoys to see used on her enemies.”  
I swallowed and finally rubbed the back of my head, but the feeling was so…internal. Rhysand simply laughed at me.  
“What’s your trade? What does Amarantha’s little pet do for her?”  
I was silent for a moment.  
“Why ask me if you can just dig it out yourself, Daemati?”  
Rhysand smirked again and shrugged his broad shoulders.  
“I prefer to hold a civilized conversation instead tonight.”  
His powers retreated from my mind and I breathed a sigh of relief. Though, some of his power seemed to stop and at first I thought that he hadn’t left all the way, that it had been a trick and he really was going to go digging through my mind. I held my breath when I realized it was me. I was holding onto the Highlord’s power. That little tendril started to curiously come towards me as I called it, unintentionally until it was almost within my grasp. I wanted it, cauldron I could taste it, feel it suddenly becoming mine, slithering around my fingers like liquid dark.   
A force like the mountain being brought down on my skull threw my connection and I was thrust back into my body, knees buckling under the merciless attack. I looked up at Rhysand, his pale face more pale now. There wasn’t fear in his eyes, more a guarded curiosity and wrath. The wrath made me cower slightly.  
Rhysand took a threatening step towards me, the shadows following him, circling us.  
“What are you?” he hissed quietly. I said nothing; instead I pursed my lips and met his stare.   
“I want to go back to bed. Let me through,” I said hoarsely.  
“We’ll meet again, Myriad.”  
I didn’t comment on how he knew my name, as it was obvious how he got it. I walked past him, mind blank until I made it back to my chamber. I threw the bolt and slammed against the door, sliding down till my ass hit the floor. I put my hands on my head, gulping in as much air as I could.  
What was that?! Deep inside of me knew—I knew I had done it before--willingly, but a power never had just…come to me before. The first time it had happened…  
I breathed out a shaky breath and with it a comforting and familiar weight appeared at my shoulders and continued to the floor.  
My wings, my Illyrian wings folded around me like a cocoon. They were my secret, my treasure. Not even Amarantha knew about them.   
I looked up at my ceiling, the tips of my wings above me like a canopy. I had to be careful now. Very careful now that Amarantha’s Whore knew of my power. I was a thief, if that explained his question. Somehow, some way, I was born with the coveted gift of a thief. Only three other Fae in the existence of Prythian were born with my power. I know because I had researched it a long time ago. Most of them served their courts or were killed in a battle for their powers. It was a good gift for a slave and Amarantha knew about it. That’s why I was hers. I had some freedom, but she controlled what I did by the ring I wore. Since I’d had it put on, become her spy, I hadn’t willingly been able to access another Fae’s power without her willing it. Whatever power I did take went into the ring, then went to her.   
The demonstration with Rhysand hadn’t gone to the ring, it went to me. I wondered what that meant when I stared at the amethyst ring that sat on my right ring finger.   
I closed my eyes and leaned against my door, a weary feeling sinking into my bones. I closed my wings around me in this little tent of safety and comfort. Maybe I could sleep the rest of the night through now that I had something else to feed my mind. Questions without answers was all I was going to get.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Amarantha’s reign had ended.  
It seemed so odd to say, to think out loud, but she was indeed gone and Prythian was free. More importantly I was free.   
I had thought for so long that Amarantha had been my friend, my lover of a sort but...after a few years I came to realize she only wanted one thing from me: my power. She lusted not after me, but after what I was, what I possessed.  
After the curse had broken and all hell had broken loose when the human girl, Feyre, had died, I had left. In the few weeks after the events under the Mountain, I had found out the girl had been brought back and was now Fae. I silently wished her good luck from where I was and continued on my way to the mountains of Montesere, figuring it’d be a good place to lay low. I was known by the Highlords and a very wanted female. I had been a consort of Amarantha and her spy, so naturally I was wanted in some sort of custody.  
I knew I should have been winnowing, or traveling by foot, but I wanted to fly. I hadn’t flown in years, being trapped under the mountain and not wanting to reveal my wings to any of Amarantha’s cronies.  
So there I was, flying fast through Night Court lands, a streak f black and gold against the pale blue sky. The wind whipped my eyes, my hair had been tied back as best as I could manage to keep from lashing my face. For once I was smiling...at least until I was slammed into by a brutishly strong force.

*** *** ***

I landed heavily somewhere and I rolled onto the ground. I clawed at the grass under my hands, hauling myself up…  
And found I was standing face to face with the Attor.  
The foul creature moved faster than I did and it grabbed me by the throat, it’s hideous face inches from mine.  
“The King has been looking for you,” It said. “And wondering why his spymaster has flown the coup.”  
I gasped for breath, clawing at the Attor’s claws, my fingernails making small wheezing noises. The Attor smiled, showing off rows of teeth, its putrid breath blowing in my face, making me gag.  
“Myriad...Myriad…”  
The Attor let me go and I fell back to the ground, coughing. The Attor prowled around me and finally grabbed me by my hair.  
“We’re going to see the King.”  
And with that, we winnowed away to Hybern.

*** *** ***

It had been four days since I arrived in Hybern, I wasn’t treated anything like a guest, though the Attor, who liked to visit my cell insisted I was still a guest and the King simply had to make time for me in his so very busy schedule.  
I had been beaten, whipped, my back in painful ribbons, my natural ability to heal slowed by the Faebane I knew was laced in my food and drink. I had refused to eat the first day, but a thorough beating had me eating and drinking my food the next day.  
I slid my feet underneath me, the chains around my ankles clanking loudly. I rubbed my filthy thumb over my bottom lip, watching the door. It was noon, at least I thought it was noon. At any rate, the door to my cell was unlocked and I glared at it, watching as one of Hybern’s soldiers slunk in the room, sneering at me.  
“Get up. The king wants to see you.”  
I snorted and slowly stood up. The guard seemed impatient because he hauled me to my feet and dragged me down a hallway, then up a flight of stairs, down another hallway and so on. It took a good fifteen minutes before we made it to the throne room. I shivered, the coolness of the palace hitting my bones like the stench of death.  
The guard holding me only hauled me forward, through a set of heavy wooden doors and pulled me towards the dais at the end of the cool silver throne room. The guard bowed low and dumped me at the foot of the dais, kicking the back of my knees so I landed on my hands and knees.  
I looked up at the king of Hybern and my blood turned into ice in my veins.  
He seemed very relaxed in his throne, one leg over the other as he stared down at me. He met my eyes and I hurriedly averted my gaze to the floor, to my filthy hands. My breath came in sudden ragged gasps as I wasn’t seeing the cold marble floor beneath my hands, but packed dirt of an Illyrian war tent floor. I blinked, my breath loud in my ears as the marble floor reappeared.  
“Myriad, isn’t it?” the King asked, his voice cold, yet amused. I only nodded, still staring at my hands.  
“I’m glad I’ve found you. Amarantha seemed to have been very fond of you.”  
I shuddered, a memory of Amarantha’s hands on my breasts, her teeth biting into my neck, sounds of passion. I blinked and the vision was gone. I felt sick.  
“I heard a rumor that you’re a thief, of powers that is. There’s a name for it: mèirleach,” the king went on.  
I knew that. I had read it a long time ago.  
The King tapped his fingers on his throne, the loud clicking filling the silence.  
“Now, I wonder...where were you going Myriad?”  
I didn’t say anything. I was going to Montesere...  
Suddenly, a blinding flash of pain erupted behind my eyes and I fell forward, a gasp wrenched from my mouth. I wasn’t seeing the marble anymore, in place of the floor was a river of molten rock, I screamed, watching my hands disappear into the rock, the flesh being seared from them. The smell reached my nose and I heaved, still screaming in pain.   
Then, as if nothing happened, I was staring at the marble again.   
I almost collapsed as I vomited my meager lunch.  
“Clever, isn’t? I can have you tortured without even touching you. Minds are so fragile when played with.”  
I looked up, taking in ragged gasps. A young female, dark haired and smirking was standing next to the King.  
“Daemati,” I said finally. I rose up, my stomach still uneasy. I glared at the female and spat at her, baring my teeth.  
The King simply smiled at me, holding a hand up to keep the female from moving forward. He got up from his throne and walked towards me. Before I could recoil, his hand latched onto my chin and held me in place with a painful grip, hard enough to leave bruises on my face.  
“I have a proposition,” he whispered, reaching out with his free hand to caress my wing. I shuddered and stiffened. The Attor had made sure I hadn’t shifted my wings back, keeping them free from harm. It had been a blow it knew would hurt the most.  
“I need a pair of eyes. I need you to get inside Prythian for me and do what Amarantha couldn’t do.”  
“What makes you think I’ll do it for you?” I hissed.  
The king dug his fingers into my wing joint and I almost screamed in pain.  
“You won’t have a choice,” the King went on. He extended his hand and touched it to my chest. Instantly I felt a cold, almost oily feeling coat my veins, making me gag.  
“You will bring whoever is plotting to patch the Wall to me, to the Cauldron and you won’t fail me, Myriad. If you try to warn them of break my hold….you will find yourself in so much agony that you will want to claw yourself to pieces. You won’t be able to break my hold, nor will anyone till I will it. You won’t be able to breathe a word of it.”  
I shivered and bared my teeth at the king. He smiled back at me and traced a hand over my lips.  
“Yes...I can see why Amarantha had liked you.”  
The King let me go and waved his guards over.   
“Take her back to her cell.”   
I was jerked to my feet, my wings tucked close to my back by the guard who had previously dragged me to the throne room. My last sight was the King returning to the throne as the female Daemati bent over to whisper in his ear.

*** *** ***

I was not taken back to my cell by the guard.  
I was taken out to one of the meager gate yards dedicated to the prisoners that were held out in the yard in stocks or hanging cages. I stared at all this as I was walked past, mud splashing my soaked knees and boots. I wondered if I was going to be strung up in one of those cages for a while. That didn’t make sense though...not if the King wanted me to be his….  
My eyes widened as I was taken to a large stone building that I recognized immediately as a barracks. I dug my feet into the mud, wrenching my chained hands back and away from the guard. I desperately tried to feel any spark of my power but I was met with an empty void, my power as useless as a wisp of smoke...a dead ember.  
“His Highness said we could have some fun with you. S’not often we get a fresh bit of meat in here. The whores we get are too skinny to be fucked more than once,” the guard explained casually.  
I choked and dug my feet in the mud more, old panic rising in my chest. I tucked my wings in more. Cauldron….my wings…  
The guard looked back at me and grinned wickedly, the malice and desire in his eyes enough to make me want to vomit again. He tugged my hands hard and began to drag me to the barracks. I had barely any strength to fight back as I was hauled over the doorstep and into a dim room full of leering faces and the stink of males.  
My nostrils flared and I stepped back only to be slammed against a wall, my bound wrists clipped to a ring above my head. The guard looked at me, sneering and working his belt undone. I hissed and locked my knees together. I let out a bark as a hand was dragged down my wing. I looked over and kicked at whoever had touched me. That was enough for the male in front of me to surge forward, pinning me against the wall. My back seared in pain as my still not heeled wounds were roughly scraped.   
I jumped when I felt a hand between my legs and my fury turned to an animalistic fear as I kicked, trying to dislodge the hands now touching me. I could smell the arousal and desire in the air, choking me, clawing at my nostrils.  
I was back in the Illyrian camp, being pressed at by much larger males, all grabbing at me, touching me. I had been small and helpless...weak.   
I screamed when that hand clamped down between my legs, searching, another hand was already up my tattered shirt.  
I wasn’t weak! Nor was I small.   
My power suddenly surged to life for a few precious seconds and flames crawled up my skin, burning the male who was touching me. My wings flared out, strong and big, knocking back the other male who had come over to have fun with me. I screamed again and pulled my hands down, the metal ring pulled with my chains.   
My power was gone, burned out again, but I was free. I panted, looking to the door, judging the distance. I didn’t wait another second as I bolted. I stumbled when something hit my leg but I stayed upright, barreling out the door. I took one look around the yard as alarm bells started ringing. I stumbled back a step or two and with an aching thrust I flapped my wings, catching air. My back felt like it was on fire as my damaged muscles moved, my wings pulling me up. I flapped again and was air born. I had to circle once, twice before I was soaring from the castle, a desperate sob tearing from my throat.   
My sob turned to a scream as an arrow tore through my wing, another arrow followed, catching my other wing as well. I faltered, pushing up. I had to get higher and out of range.  
Then as if I was rammed in the stomach, my breath was taken away and my wings stopped. I looked down at my torso to see the tip of an arrow protrude from my middle, its tip glistening with blood. I gasped, trying to take in air. A raspy gurgle filled my ears and I tasted blood.  
Gods...I was falling.  
No...I’m dying.  
I heard the wind whistle in my ears, my hair stinging my face and eyes. At least it would be quick.  
But suddenly I wasn’t falling anymore. Someone was holding me, their hands were cold against my skin and their chest was like a rock against my side. I felt a tug in my stomach, like a voice telling me to hold on. Maybe my savior was talking?   
I looked up, as my vision began to fade. I caught sight only of shadow, shadows curling around a grim face telling me to keep my eyes open.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter isn't confusing or anything. I wanted to add some flashbacks just to answer a couple questions if you all had any. What a better way to do it than a sick person's hallucinations?? Hope you like.
> 
> Updates will be regular after the holidays.

Chapter Four  
 

  It had begun to rain by the type the guards had finished with the girl. They threw her into the cages in the middle of the camp, exchanging a few words with the guards coming over to stand watch over the cage.  
  The child hardly moved, except to pull her now torn clothes around herself in some way as to save what little of her dignity she had left. It wasn’t much.  
   Rain pelted her inside the cage, soaking her to the skin. Mud from underneath her now coated every bit of the girl, her face covered in it except for the trails on her face left by the tears that she couldn’t stop. Her guards said nothing to her or even cast a look at her, which she was grateful for as she curled in the farthest corner away from them to try and sleep.  
    It must’ve been early morning when the girl felt a hand grab her shoulder and she jerked awake, instantly scrabbling away from the touch.  
   “Myriad!”  
   The young girl’s eyes opened wide and she hurried to the cage bars, reaching out for her mother. Her mother was there, her face pale and her black hair unbound, making her look like a kind of wraith or witch in the dusk. Myriad reached for her anyway, sobbing quietly.  
  “Mama…! Mama...h-he wants you here,” she managed to choke out. Her mother shushed her and moved to the door of the cage, holding her hand over the lock. It gave way instantly and fell to the ground. Myriad had gone silent, having never seen her mother use magic of any kind.  
   Her mother looked back to her, her dark eyes and hard.  
   “Come, quickly.”  
  Myriad scrambled out, wincing at the pain her movements caused. Her mother didn’t bother to look at her as she grabbed her daughter’s wrist and pulled her after her. It was only then that Myriad noticed the blood covering her mother’s hands.  
  “Mama?”  
  Myriad stopped, and dug her feet into the muddy ground. She looked up at her mother, fear covering her features. Her mother looked back at her, her eyes livid with a motherly rage, letting Myriad know her disobedience had angered her mother.  
   “Foolish girl! I shouldn’t have bothered coming back for you,” she hissed, taking her daughter’s hand again. “If only you had listened to me.”  
   “No, you shouldn’t have, Lydia.”  
   The duo stopped, Lydia’s head whipping to the source of the voice, watching as her husband walked out from between a few tents. He snapped his fingers and his soldiers moved out from their hiding places to surround the females.  
   Lydia shoved Myriad behind her and sneered at her husband, pulling a bloodied knife from her hip. Her wings flared out, the scars on them catching in the morning light.  
   “I should kill you where you stand, witch,” Torin said, scuffing his boot in the mud in front of him. “You know, I hadn’t caught on until a few years ago about what you really were. The missing animals, herbs under you pillow.” Torin laughed and shook his head, looking at his former wife.  
  “You must have been so desperate to have seduced that little Autumn Lordling...if you needed relief, all you had to do was ask, my dear.”  
   Lydia hissed angrily and drew Myriad closer to her.  
   “Why Myriad? Why did you have to drag her into this?” Lydia asked, trying to buy time while she searched for a way out.  
  Torin laughed and set his hand on the pommel of his wicked looking sword.  
   “The little bastard child is nothing to me. It’s you I wanted,” Torin retorted. He studied his wife and nodded to his men to close in. “I regret not killing you before the brat was born. Save me the humiliation and the trouble of having a little witchling born. How much have you taught her of your craft?”  
  “I’ve taught her nothing!” Lydia clutched Myriad’s arm hard enough to get a whimper from the girl. “Spare the girl...please.”  
   Torin shook his head.  
  “I think not.”  
   The soldiers closed in and Lydia looked from side to side, backing up a few steps. She thrust her dagger into Myriad’s hands and began to whisper quietly, in a language Myriad didn’t know. The soldiers stopped and Lydia clenched her fists. One by one, the soldiers fell, blood running from their noses and ears. Myriad looked at them with wide eyes, fear clawing at her throat.  
   Lydia grabbed Myriad’s hand and pulled her behind her as she turned and ran from the soldiers she had just felled.  
  Torin growled and his wings unfurled as he launched  himself into the air. He landed heavily in front of Lydia, his sword drawn in a heartbeat. He swung it at Lydia, the female Illyrian ducking back to avoid the blow. She shoved Myriad aside and held out her small blade, standing her ground.  
  Myriad hit the ground, crawling back as she watched her mother avoid every swing of Torin’s sword. She’d never seen her mother fight, but she could tell her mother couldn’t hold out long against Torin. It was obvious he was toying with her.  
  It was only when Lydia actually stung back, raking a cut across Torin’s face in a lucky blow that Torin had enough. His stance switched in an instant and he was upon Lydia, grabbing her by the throat.  
   “Mama!!”  
  Torin looked over Lydia’s shoulder at her daughter, smirking when he looked back at Lydia.  
  “She’ll die next, witch,” He whispered. He thrust his sword through Lydia’s chest, ignoring the young girl’s scream. He let Lydia gurgle for a minute before he pulled his sword out and dropped his wife to the ground. He walked over her body, heading for Myriad.  
   Myriad was staring at her mother’s eyes, the life fading from them, leaving them dark and blank. Tears ran down her face, realizing that her mother was dead, that she had no one left to protect her.  
  “Well witching,” Torin said, casually flicking his sword back and forth. “I suppose I have to kill you now. Although I might consider being merciful and sparing you your life. You can repay me with your service. I’m sure if you were taught well, you could be quite useful to me.”  
   Myriad crawled backwards, shaking her head. Her fear was replaced with a different feeling now, one she’d never experienced. It started in her chest and worked its way to her throat. Her breath came in gasps, her chest heavy.  
   “No. No get away,” she whispered, her eyes burning as newfound hatred coursed through her. Torin simply laughed at her and bent down, grabbing Myriad by her chin. He hauled her up and looked her up and down, smirking. Myriad bared her teeth and grabbed Torin’s hand, digging her little fingers into his scaled armor.  
  Torin clucked his tongue and stuck his sword in the ground to free his other hand. He ran his hand over Myriad’s curls, pulling one.  
  “Mmm...not bad looking. You look like that bastard.”  
  Myriad hissed and kicked out. Torin laughed as her foot made contact with his knee and bounced off.  
  “So little. I think I’ll keep you. You’re not bad on the eyes and I think you’ll be easily kept, what do you think, witchling?” he asked.  
   Myriad whimpered when Torin’s hand went to her small breasts, squeezing them. She dug her feet in the ground and met Torin’s eyes, and grabbed his wrist.  
  “Let go,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she felt a weight on her back fueled by a sudden whirlwind of heat in her chest.  
   Torin stared at the girl, at the wings that unfurled from her shoulders in a plume of flames. They were great, gold colored wings, small but with the promise of growing to be strong and swift; they looked like they belonged on a firedrake, not an Illyrian halfbreed. His eyes went to hers and he saw a power in her golden eyes that made him falter for half a second.  
   Myriad threw Torin’s hands off her and lashed out with her fists, flames erupting from her hands as she screamed. She was raw, untrained and angry. She was bound to slip up.  
   Torin grabbed his sword, stepping forward to cut the girl down. She dodged...no...she winnowed away, appearing behind him, her hair whipping around her like live flame. She was panting, flames crawling up her arms. She stared at herself, eyes wide, almost frightened and she looked back at Torin, backing away as he made for her.  
   Myriad stumbled back, hitting the ground hard. She landed on a wing, wincing in pain as she dragged herself back.  
   She threw her hands up in front of her face, flames dancing out in front of her in a shield at the same time a cool wind swept over her, shadows blocking out the morning sun. She looked once to see what happened, seeing Torin slammed to the ground by another Illyrian she didn’t know. She heard Torin say the word witch and Myriad knew she had to go when two more Illyrians hit the ground not far from her.  
   Through some desperation, she managed to winnow again, the camp fading into darkness.

                                                       
                                                        ***   ***   ***

 

  I lurched awake, dragged back to consciousness by a pain that tore through me like I’d never felt before. I screamed, reaching for the source of the pain. My hands were stopped and pressed back by firm, large hands.  
  “Don’t. I had to get the arrow out, it’s poisoned.”  
  I let my head drop back, gasping for air, choking as blood filled my mouth. The hands were at the back of my neck, lifting me up so I didn’t choke on my own blood. I looked up at the male, seeing two of him at first before he focused into one male.  
  He was beautiful. Even I could tell in my poison addled brain. And he was...Illyrian.  
  “We have to winnow again. I’m taking you to a healer. Stay awake. If you pass out again, I may not be able to wake you again and you could die,” he was saying. I gurgled something and coughed, my entire body seizing with pain. The male held me still by my shoulders until I was done. He held his hand over my belly, blue light coming from stones on his hands. Gratefully my pain subsided for the time being until the male lifted me up, cradling me to his chest like a baby. I groaned, coughing more blood as I felt my mind start to pull away.  
  “No...stay with me…”  
  The male’s voice began to sound distant and my vision once again faded away into hallucinations.

                          
                                                              ***   ***   ***

    
      I woke again, this time more confused than the last. I was so hot, so hot. My throat felt like it was on fire, and I tried to sit up, but something held me down. I thrashed wildly, like a fish out of water.  
   “Hold her wings down!”  
    I screamed and kicked out, my power stirring inside me like someone had blown a breath on a pile of embers. My entire body was on fire with pain as someone touched me.  
   “The fever’s burning her up,” said a female voice.  
  “The faebane’s wearing off. Won’t that help?”  
   I began to thrash. No, no more faebane!  
   “Hold her still!”  
   Hands went to my forehead, they were so cool, a blessed relief. Shadows closed in my mind, clouding my vision. I didn’t care if they might have been malevolent, they were soothing my pain, almost lulling me back into my fitful sleep.  
  “Thank you Azriel...go rest,” I heard the female voice say before I was claimed by unconsciousness again.

 

                                                        ***   ***   ***

    Amarantha was dressed only in a silken sheer robe, sprawled out on a tousled bed, waiting for me. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who she had been romping with previously.  
She looked at me with those black eyes of hers and she smiled, her blood red lips parting to show carefully straight teeth.  
    “Myriad, I’m glad you could come.”  
I stood by the door, my spine ramrod straight. I was uncomfortable and she knew it. She got up from the bed, her whole body moving quick, each step punctuated and careful as she walked towards me. I found myself looking down at her. I stood several inches taller than her, than most Fae. She smiled and put a hand on my own, bringing it to her face. Her lips were just inches from the ring she had given me. She smiled then at that the bauble and her eyes looked at me, no not me, my mouth.  
I remembered going cold and still, my stomach turning to lead and my tongue to ash in my mouth.  
    “You’re such an interesting person, Myriad,” Amarantha said, her lips still inches from my knuckles. “You’re driven so much by a hatred, I can see it fester under your skin. I like that. You and I are one in the same. Both of us betrayed, both of us yearning for one thing.”  
Her lips touched my knuckles and I suppressed the shudder than ran through me.  
“Revenge,” Amarantha said huskily. She’d suddenly twisted my hand and her hands were on me, moving towards my intimate areas where I let no one touch me. I was pinned to the door as Amarnatha kissed me, her lips over mine, searching and greedy.  
Before I knew what I was doing, I had shoved Amarantha off me and stared at the Queen. She looked at me, wiping her mouth on her hand, smiling at what she saw there. It seemed to me that she enjoyed this side of me, my fear and disgust. She knew if she bent me, then she’d own me. I’d been a fool to think she was my friend.  
“I want to give you something Myriad, “ she said. She looked up at me with those black eyes, holding malice and the threat to not disobey her. “Remove your clothes and join me.”  
An order, not an invitation.  
I hadn’t been touched since I was fourteen, nearly a hundred years ago. I hadn’t let anyone touch me.  
Perhaps I was a coward, or it was something else that made me undo my clothes and join Amarantha. I think it was her way of saying I was hers, that I was her slave now. Never equal.  
                                                           
    After that night, Amarantha rarely took me to bed. Only on the nights she wanted me to do something for her. She’d take me to her bed, croon sweet things of revenge and bloodlust in my ear as she had her way. I endured the sex and did as I was told, I hunted down those she needed or wanted and brought them to her.  
   We are one in the same, you and I. Like called to like, Amarantha always reminded me.

                                                               ***   ***   ***  
   I remembered the night after the human girl came, Amarantha had called me to her room. The sex had been...more brutal than usual and I could tell Amarantha wasn’t pleased for some reason. After a few hours, when Amarantha had her fill, we lay on the bed, her head on my shoulder, like…a lover, though I knew we weren’t. Her hair was splayed out, spilling across my bared chest, It looked quite a lot like blood. Her alabaster finger stroked my breast, running fingers around my nipple.  
  “Why toy with the human?” I finally asked. Amarantha’s finger halted its tracing and I felt the old Fae hold her breath. “Why not kill her outright?  
Amarantha chuckled and she started stroking me again.  
“I find it…interesting. Humans rarely do anything so noble,” she said coldly. I could tell by the tone that she thought the girl’s deed very far from noble.  
“It’s stupid. Why would she kill herself by coming down here for a male who will easily outlive her or grow tired of her? What’s to gain from it?” I mused, shifting slightly.  
Amarantha’s laugh cut into me like a dagger. She rolled off me and sat up, her loose hair flowing down her chest like a molten river.  
   “That’s why I like you, Myriad,” the Queen said, her blood red lips upturned. I slunk back ever so slightly. “You don’t believe in love. It’s a waste of time to you, that or it’s so foreign that you don’t know it.”  
    “Love brings pain,” I said flatly.  
   “Mmm.”  
   Amarantha roved her hand up my toned stomach, raising goose bumps in its wake. I shut my mouth as I saw her eyes flash with black malice.  
“Do you know why I gave her a riddle?” She asked me. I shook my head.  
“Because the answer is so simple, so easy. Of course she won’t think of the answer because the answer is everything opposite of what she believes it to be. But you…you Myriad, so hateful, you already know the answer, darling.”  
  I swallowed, my mouth dry.  
  “Love? That’s the answer?” I asked. Amarantha’s fingers suddenly dug into by stomach, eliciting a hiss of pain from me. Once more I had a sudden feeling of fear pool in my stomach. Oh how easily she could gut me.  
“Yes. You can’t say the answer however, that would spoil my fun.”  
   Even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t. She knew that. The spell that bound Prythian bound me as well. So I merely nodded and watched the fae in front of me as she walked her fingers back up to my breasts. She smiled, like a cat and almost gently cupped my breast.  
“After all this time, you’ve never told me who scarred you,” she whispered. I flinched and looked past Amarantha’s shoulder. She had loved to trace the scars that ran across my small breasts. The scars I had on my back, my stomach, scars that had been carved to say wicked foul words on my body. I think she liked them, for whatever reason, I never dared to ask.  
“They’re dead so what does it matter?” I replied neutrally.  
Amarantha bent down and snaked her tongue along a small silver scar, marring my brassy complexion.  
  “Pity…they marred such a beautiful creature,” was all Amarantha said.

    
                                                        ***   ***   ***

   My eyes flew open and my dream ended, the ghostly hands touching me slipped away. I was staring at a ceiling in a dark room, on a small bed, covered with warm blankets. I shivered and blinked a few times, going to sit up. I groaned in pain and the room spun, so I stopped my movements.  
   I fought the nausea that rose to my throat at the sudden movements and I took a few stilling breaths. I didn’t think I had a fever, then again, I wasn’t a healer.  
  I remembered a few things that had happened, being caught by someone, then winnowing. There had been an awful lot of winnowing. Through it all though, I remembered clearly cool hands and shadows, always shadows.  
   My stomach tugged in an uncomfortable way and I sat up, slower this time, one hand pressed to my belly. I could feel bandages there, under the long night shirt I was wearing.  
   I shoved the covers back and swung my legs out of bed. The moment I stood up, the world spun and the floor rose up to meet me. I groaned, fighting the urge to vomit as I pushed off the floor. I was so weak…  
   I could hear noises from beneath me, low voices that suddenly stopped. I pulled myself up by the bed and managed to stand up. Some part of me was saying to run, get out of the room. I needed a weapon though. I looked around the dark room, seeing only a nightstand and a table in one corner filled with herbs and little jars. I must’ve been in a healer’s house.  
   I walked to the table, looking for a knife or anything there that I could use. I found one, much to my relief, a small chopping knife. I snatched it, listening for the voices. I could still hear them quiet now. I knew they had heard me.  
   My ears picked up the sound of wood creaking. Stairs, they were coming up the stairs. I scrambled away from the table, looking around for a way out.  
  Then I saw it, a small window. I ran over and threw it open, struggling with my weakness. I looked out and down, my throat constricting at the drop. I searched for my power to summon my wings and was met by a small spark, not enough to generate my magic. I heard the voices outside the door, then the door opened. I looked over my shoulder at the two male figures coming into the room, I was half blinded by the light behind them.  
   That look was all I needed before I lurched through the window, halfway out.  
   “Grab her!”  
  I screamed when large arms grabbed me around my waist and my whole body jerked in pain. I gasped, the wind knocked out of me as I went limp.  
  “Be careful with her!”  
  I recognized the female voice from before.  
  I kicked weakly, coughing as I tried to get out of the grip. My vision was starting to spin and I fought the urge to faint.  
   “Get her back to the bed,” snapped the female. “I swear Azriel, if you opened that wound…”  
   “She was going to jump.”  
   I was put back on the bed and I caught sight of three faces before I lost consciousness again.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

I had woken a few hours after my escape attempt, this time to the healer who I learned had been the female whose voice I had heard. She had informed me that I could go downstairs to the sitting room and have something to eat while the males talked to me.  
Those males, I learned were Rhysand, Highlord of the Nightcourt and his spymaster, Azriel.   
So then I found myself sitting across from them, cradling a mug of broth in my hands, staring at them through the steam that curled up from my cup. So far, none of us had spoken.   
Rhysand was lounging in an armchair, watching my every move. He had his perfect chin resting on his fist, a smirk on his face. A shiver ran through me as I recalled he used to look at Amarantha’s subjects the same way. I wondered if now he was probing my mind and I didn’t know it. It was a horrid thought.  
Azriel on the other hand wasn’t seated. He was lurking by the fireplace, the shadows in that corner writhing around him like loyal dogs. I found myself looking over at him every so often, a nagging part of me believing that I had seen him somewhere before.  
“I hope you like cold broth.”  
I looked over to Rhysand and leveled my gaze with his. He was smirking at me, his eyes roaming over me in a way warriors size up their opponents.   
I scowled and took a sip of the broth, finding it quite good. I realized I’d been rather hungry.  
“When Azriel brought you here, I almost told him to dump you somewhere else,” Rhysand said. “You were half dead anyway.”  
I raised an eyebrow and set my broth down.  
“I wouldn’t expect any better,” I rasped, my voice dry and unused. “I wouldn’t have thought Amarantha’s whore could be so generous. What’s your real reason for bringing me here? Am I a prisoner?”  
Azriel shifted by the fireplace and I saw by the slight shift in Rhysand’s eyes that my words had caused a stir. Rhysand simply smiled wider and shrugged.  
“No, you’re not a prisoner,” he said coolly. I fidgeted a little and furrowed my brows. Rhysand continued.  
“Azriel says he knows you.”  
“He wasn’t Under the Mountain,” I said dryly. I’d never seen the Illyrian before in my life, so I kept telling myself. Azriel looked over at Rhysand, then at me. He held out a hand, positioning it at waist-level.  
“You were younger then,” he said, his voice quiet and somewhat grim. I held my mug tighter, my fingernails scraping the porcelain.   
“You were in an Illyrian war camp. Torin, the lord there, he was going to kill you. He said you were a witch.”  
I felt my blood drain from my face and I raised a lip, sneering at the Illyrian. Cauldron...I did know him. The shadows, I recognized them, and the feeling he gave off. Like cold death.  
“And you want me to scrape before you, offering you my thanks?” I spat. I sipped from my mug, trying to calm my shaking hands.  
“Are you a witch?” Rhysand asked coolly.   
I shook my head and took a long while to sip my broth. Let them wait. They deserved it. Finally I looked up, narrowing my eyes.  
“You tell me. You’re the one who reads minds.”  
Rhysand shrugged again looked me over. It was Azriel who spoke first.  
“What does it matter if you are or aren’t?” he said quietly. He fingered the black blade by his side, his dark eyes boring a hole in my head.  
“I know you’re a meirleach,” Rhysand said. “And that was why Amarantha kept a tight leash on you. You must have been awfully valuable to her. Tell me, how did she keep a rein on you?”  
I stared past Rhysand’s shoulder and scowled. How Amarantha kept a hold on me wasn’t something I liked to discuss. Nor the fact that I could strip even the most powerful fae of their powers like some overgrown leech. I rubbed my finger, the pale ring of skin there showing signs of the ring Amarantha had given me to hold those powers in.  
I knew Rhysand looked, but I was grateful he didn’t say anything about it.  
“Hybern was hunting you. It seems the king wanted to know where his little spy had run off to. You conveniently disappeared after everything went to hell Under the Mountain,” Rhysand said.  
I glanced over the Highlord’s shoulder, rolling my eyes.  
“I don’t have an allegiance with them, if that’s what you’re wanting to know.”  
“I know.”  
I looked back at the male, starting to wonder what he was getting at. He looked at Azriel who shrugged and looked at me. I frowned, curiosity peaking.  
Rhysand looked at me, folding his hands.  
“Myriad, I know that you offered to help Feyre escape Under the Mountain.”  
I snapped my head around, looking at Rhysand. How…  
“She told me about it. That’s why you’re here. Now I don’t trust you, but I do trust that you’re not working for our enemies. You owe allegiance to yourself, which is fair. I can see why.”  
I licked my lips and drew my feet inward. My whole body itched to run. I knew I wouldn’t get very far at all.  
“I want to know if you’d be willing to help our cause. Amarantha’s death didn’t go unheard by Hybern and my sources say that war is on the horizon,” Rhys said.   
I set my mug aside and braced my hands on my knees, my face pulling in a frown.  
“Why? Why are you asking for my help?,” I asked quietly. “Any other court would sooner throw me in a cell for my part Under the Mountain but you’re offering me a bloody job. Why?”  
Rhysand shrugged and smiled. I felt claws rake down the back of my mind and I shivered.  
“Lets just say that I wasn’t Amarantha’s only whore and you’re so driven by vengeance that it’s remarkable.”   
I snarled and surged to my feet, my power rising up with my temper. Azriel casually shoved off the mantle and stepped closer. I pointed a finger to Rhysand and snarled.  
“That...how did you know?”  
Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, she told me everything. It was obvious.”  
He stood up and I found myself looking up at him just a little. He put his hands in his pockets.  
“I’ll let you say no. I’ll even grant you sanctuary here in Velaris if you’d like,” he said. “You’re half Illyrian, so technically that makes you a Night Court subject and I can give you protection from other courts. I’d like to help you Myriad.”  
I shifted on my feet, feeling that tug in my stomach again, something in the back of my head saying “stay.”   
“I want a bargain,” I said finally. I’d never made a bargain before, not ever. So I tried to think of everything I wanted that couldn’t be used against me. “If I help you with Hybern , I want full payment. A place to stay, free reign in and out of this court. And I want to be treated like a citizen, not a soldier, or a prisoner.”  
Rhysand smiled and held out a hand. I looked at the hand and scowled, taking it after a moment.  
“It’s a bargain.”  
Rhysand squeezed my hand and I let it go as quickly as I could, remembering the feeling of Rhysand’s power coming to me years ago.   
“Tomorrow Azriel will take you to the townhouse. You can meet my inner circle, seeing as how you’ll be working with them the most,” he said, letting go of my hand. I snorted and walked back to my chair, sitting down.  
“Perhaps they’ll be better company than my silent watch dog,” I replied, looking pointedly at Azriel. I smiled at him, showing my teeth. The smiled didn’t reach my eyes though.   
“Azriel volunteered,” Rhysand said. “I’d be nicer to your watchdog. He let you hit him several times when Majda was patching you up. It was quite entertaining.”  
I looked at the Illyrian and felt heat rise up my neck. Azriel seemed just as uncomfortable because he avoided my eyes and found the mantle piece suddenly interesting.  
“Well, I must get going. I will see you in the morning,” Rhysand said, stretching slightly. “Get your rest, you’ll need it. Oh, and no more jumping out windows, Azriel will catch you every time.”  
I scowled and watched Rhysand winnow in a swirl of darkness. Once he was gone, I relaxed against the chair and ran my hand over my face, shutting my eyes tiredly. I heard Azriel walk over and sit down across from me.  
I put my hand down and looked at the Illyrian, studying him.  
“How did you recognize me?”  
Azriel folded his hands in his lap and shrugged his broad shoulders.  
“Your wings,” he said quietly. “When you were flying out of Hybern, I saw your wings. Though it wasn’t until we stopped outside the wall when I pulled the arrow out that I really made the connection. That and...you said a few words here and there.”  
I stared at him, following the line of his jaw, down to his squared shoulders. He looked almost uncomfortable.   
“I remember you tackled him,” I said, my voice unusually soft. I wanted to kick myself. “Torin I mean...he killed my mother. He easily could’ve killed me. Why’d you stop him?”  
Azriel shifted in his seat.   
“You were a kid.”  
I stood up and picked up my mug. As I looked at the contents swish around inside I knew that wasn’t the real reason Azriel had stopped the warlord. I didn’t feel like wanting to know the Illyrian’s motives. Slowly walked to the doorway that lead to the stairs, stopping as my hand hit the railing.   
“Thank you.”

 

*** *** ***

The morning brought a bath and fresh clothes all of which I desperately needed. From the events of the night before, I had began to get my strength back rather quickly. The healer had told me that it was because the faebane wearing off and my body doing its own work.  
Along with my powers returning and my wound healing, I had discovered my bargain tattoo. It was across my shoulders, in the shape of ravens wings. I didn’t quite mind them really. The black, almost purple ink stood out on my tanned skin in a way I rather liked. For a minute I almost imagined what it would be like to have Illyrian tattoos. The thought was gone just as quickly.  
My clothes had been laid out on my bed and I dressed quickly, frowning at the blue tunic that had been neatly folded. It was embroidered with silver thread around the hems, much richer in color and fabric than anything I had ever worn. I almost didn’t want to put it on, feeling like I might marr the borrowed item.  
The rest of my clothes consisted of leather leggings and a fitted shirt with long sleeves. I suspected Azriel had something to do with my clothes because of how functional they were. I slipped on my boots that I had been wearing when I was captured. They’d been cleaned, thankfully, at least as cleaned as I one could get them.  
As soon as I’d dressed, I headed back downstairs, raiding the kitchen of any food that laid about. My belly had made its hunger known and I wasn’t about to walk around with a growling stomach.   
I chewed on the apple I’d found, walking around the house looking for my watchdog. I’d had a feeling that he’d been assigned to me for more than just a guide. Which was fair enough considering my past occupation.   
I found Azriel in the foyer, reading what looked to be official reports. I cleared my throat, letting my presence be known before I walked in.  
“I already knew you were there. You don’t have to cough up your apple to get my attention.”  
I scowled at the taller Illyrian and took a loud bite of my apple. Azriel looked at me over his papers, his hair falling in his eyes slightly. He raised an eyebrow and folded his papers away.  
I waved my apple towards the door.  
“I’ve got my introductions in place. Let’s go.”  
Azriel unfurled his wings a little and my eyes were drawn to the large membranous black wings. Shadow still lurked about them, sliding around Azriels’s ears and face. I frowned and threw my apple in a wastebasket by the door.  
“What are you?”  
Azriel raised his eyebrow again and tilted his head.  
“And Illyrian.”  
I scowled at the male and wiped my hands on my thighs.  
“Like I can’t see, smart ass,” I snapped. “What I meant was--”   
“I know what you meant,” Azriel cut in. “I’m a shadowsinger. That’s why I’m Rhys’ spymaster.”  
I looked up at Azriel, stiffening when he walked over and held out a hand. I stared at the scarred hand then the blue siphon on top of it. I had heard of shadowsingers, but never seen one before. Tales said they were dangerous and I had no doubt at all that Azriel could kill me in half a second. I looked back up at him, meeting his eyes for a minute before I looked at the buckle on his shoulder plate.  
“Oh,” I managed to get out. I looked back at the hand and scuffed my feet.  
“We can walk if you don’t want to winnow,” Azriel said, withdrawing his hand. I hurriedly grabbed his hand, gripping it a little too tight.  
“Just winnow.”  
I could have sworn I saw something like curiosity in Azriel’s eyes before we winnowed away in shadow, the familiar cold rushing about me.   
It was a second before we landed in another foyer, this one much richer than the healer’s humble house. There were rugs coating the floor and paintings lining the spacious foyer walls.   
I let go of Azriel’s hand and stepped away from him, folding my arms over my chest.  
“Your highlord has good taste,” I said, looking at the carpet under my feet.  
“Even if it’s not good for anything but sitting and collecting dust.”  
I looked up, catching sight of another Illyrian, this one bigger than Azriel. He had a look on his face that I found distasteful in every way. A womanizer for sure.  
“Another one of Rhysand’s watch dogs?” I sneered, looking at the male. He simply laughed in return and looked at Azriel.  
“Fetching little thing, isn’t she? Such nice manners.”  
“Says the one who has no manners.”  
There, coming down the staircase was a female, highfae by the looks of her. She was absolutely breathtaking. Her golden hair was unbound, bouncing around her shoulders as she trotted down the stairs, smirking at the new male. I suddenly felt incredibly grubby compared to the her.  
However, she took a look at me and her smile faltered for the barest second, almost so fast I didn’t catch it. I tilted my chin up, clenching my teeth. Whatever she saw in me, it obviously wasn’t something pleasant. Nevertheless, the fae walked right up to me and extended a hand.  
“I’m Mor,” she said, fixing her smile. I frowned, but took the hand and lightly shook it.  
“Myriad.”  
“Fox,” said the larger Illyrian. I looked up at him and scowled. I didn’t like to be called that.  
“How clever. Do you study names?” I said more hotly than intended. Mor snorted and looked up at the Male.  
“Cassian just likes to point out the obvious.”  
My scowl froze and melted off my face and I took a step back, staring up at the male. Oh Cauldron….  
“You’re…” I swallowed and stared at Cassian. He was one of the most powerful Illyrian generals in existence. Even I had heard of him. Usually it wasn’t very nice things, if you weren’t on the right side. He’d fought in the War alongside Rhysand before I was born.  
Cassian merely grinned at me and went to slouch in an armchair. Mor rolled her eyes and shook her pretty head.  
“Don’t inflate his ego anymore than it already is.”  
I held my arms at my side and was silent, feeling rather out of place with the playful banter. I shuffled slightly until Mor offered me a seat on a rather comfortable looking couch. I took it and she perched next to me, giving me side glances every so often.   
“So Rhysand says you’re going to be working with us,” Cassian said, slinging his leg over the armrest.   
I nodded and rubbed my knees.   
“Yes. We...made a bargain.”  
Mor raised bother her eyebrows and twisted a strand of hair around her finger.  
“That’s interesting.”  
“What’s even more interesting is that he invited a Meirleach into his circle. I’ve never met one of your kind before.”  
I stiffened and watched as a short female walked into the room. I stared at her, my breath catching in my throat. I knew she wasn’t fae at all, she felt different, like a monster hiding in a fae’s skin. I could feel my face drain of color, my eyes meeting her silver ones. They seemed to glow as she stared back, a smile coming over her red lips. She tilted a head in my direction, her blunt hair shifting slightly.  
My powers uninvitedly poked forward, tasting the air between us, curious to see what the creature was in front of me. I hardly had any control over the power hungry tendrils that stole what wasn’t mine.   
The female in front of me leveled a stare so penetrating towards me that I reined in my powers, stuffing them back inside my mind.  
“I wouldn’t be so bold little halfbreed. You may not like what you steal,” the female said. I blinked, feeling ill. I realized the room had gone quiet and the fae present were staring at me like I was some sort of exotic exhibition. The distrust I hadn’t seen earlier was clear in their eyes now. Their seemingly welcoming behavior had been a feint, feeling me out.   
“I-I’m sorry,” I whispered, shrinking back, feeling quite like a little child in the presence of the old being. I felt like I did have to apologize. “I-I don’t always have control over it. It gets curious.”  
The female smiled a little coldly and sat down in an armchair, sitting on her crossed legs.  
“Forgiven,” she said. She looked around, raising a dark eyebrow. “Cat finally got your tongues?”  
Cassian scowled at the female and sat up more.   
“Not everyone is as calm as you Amren,” he said. He looked at me and I became very interested in my fingers, picking at a loose thread in my tunic. I could feel the questions that remained unspoken.  
“Where’s Rhys?” Amren asked, toying with a heavy gold necklace she was wearing.  
“Tsk, so impatient, Amren.”  
Rhysand stepped into the foyer, his hands in his pockets. Behind him was another female fae. With a start, I realized she was the girl from Under the Mountain.   
Feyre met my eyes and I held the stare, feeling very naked in front of her. She frowned at me, her eyes starting with recognition as well.  
“You were Under the Mountain,” she said abruptly. I stood up, wiping my hands down. I nodded and dipped my head slightly.  
“Yes. I was.”  
Feyre looked at Rhysand and frowned, like they were having a silent conversation. Feyre looked back at me and walked forward. She wasn’t any taller than I remembered. She felt so different though, not like any other fae.  
I looked down at her, feeling my lips pull up.  
“I remember you,” Feyre said flatly. “Rhysand didn’t tell me you’d be here.”  
“I suppose he wanted you to make your own opinions of me,” I replied slowly. Feyre pursed her lips and looked me over. I saw something flash in her eyes and I folded my hands behind me.  
“You were very brave,” I said lowly. I was indebted to this female on a personal level. She had defeated Amarantha, freeing Prythian,but also...she had freed me. I had been a slave to the self-appointed queen. I realized then that I was indebted. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of it either.  
“You offered me freedom and you meant it,” Feyre said finally. “You would have helped me leave.”  
I wasn’t sure what I would have done. Perhaps I would have tried to set her free, just so I didn't have to watch another Clare Beddor get slowly ripped apart and tortured again if Feyre failed. Maybe it was for my own peace of mind and not for Feyre’s well being that I offered to help her get away. My own selfish ambitions?   
Still, I don’t know why I had offered, what had prompted me to say those things. I felt Feyre staring at me, waiting for me to say anything.   
I looked up at her, meeting her hard gray eyes. There was very little kindness there, very little of anything. They were hollow, scarred. They had seen too much and now they were seeing me and I did my best to hide from her piercing gaze.   
“I’m sorry you never came with me,” I said lowly after what seemed like hours of silence. “I’m sorry about what happened to you.”  
Feyre’s lips pressed together and her brows drew forward in an expression of confusion.  
“Are you really sorry at all?”  
I had no answer.

 

*** *** ***

 

I kept getting these glances by Rhysand and Amren through the day. I was invited to stay for dinner, afterwards I was told I could roam about the city as I pleased. Azriel wouldn’t be accompanying me, much to my joy as he had gone off to speak with some contacts of his.  
“I don’t appreciate being the subject of silent conversation,” I said, swallowing a fork full of greens. From where he sat, I heard Cassian snort into his wine. I shot him a look, feeling like a sulky child.   
Rhysand rather delicately sipped his wine and waited a good minute before speaking.  
“I was interested in how well you can control your powers. Amren told me you tried to steal hers.”  
The food in my mouth turned to ash. I looked up and rubbed my right ring finger, deciding to give an honest answer.  
“I didn’t try to. It just happened. It...depends on the power. The more powerful the fae, the more interested it becomes and it reaches out towards it,” I explained. “It...feels like another side to my consciousness. I can’t always summon it up and I can’t always restrain it. Amarantha...had me...use it to strip fae of their power.”  
I shuddered and looked up, holding up my left hand, pointing the the white untanned skin on my ring finger.  
“Any power I took went to a ring that she had made for me. It was...like a siphon almost. Once it was filled she took the power as her own.”  
Amren folded her fingers under her chin and tilted her head, watching me.  
“Did you keep any of the power?”  
I shook my head.  
“No. I never could.”  
“The fae you took from, what happened to them?” Amren asked. I looked at her and then down at my plate. I reached for my glass of wine, taking a healthy sip. I could hear the faint screams in my head. Sounds of torture. I saw clearly the blank looks in their eyes when they’d been sucked dry. Any spark of magic being drained from them left them husks of what they once were. I had stolen more than a life. I had stolen a soul.  
“They would have been better off dead.”  
I looked up, catching Rhysand’s eyes.  
“I’m not proud of what I did,” I said. “I would take it all back if I could, but I can’t and nothing I can do can reverse what I did. I suppose that means I have to make up for it by doing something...worth while for a change.”  
Amren snorted, as if she could care less what I was capable of.   
“To think that Hybern had its hands on you,” she said. She tilted her head, her eyes shimmering with suspicion. “Why’d he let you go. No one escapes from there so easily. It’s hard enough to penetrate.”  
I opened my mouth, to say I almost died getting away. I was going to tell them of what the king had said, what he’d made me do.   
“The King…”  
Just like that, my mind went blank. Nothing. I could remember nothing of what I was going to say or do. I blinked at Amren, my eyes suddenly unfocusing.  
Remember, you can’t say a word. It’ll spoil all the fun.   
There was a roaring in my ears and fire in my veins. I doubled over, my hands going to my middle. I felt like my insides were being eaten by fire, my blood replaced by blades.  
Myriad.  
Through my pain, I felt darkness. It was soft and comforting, close too. Like a presence in my mind.  
I realized someone was holding my face and I was on the floor. I blinked, staring up at silver eyes belonging to Amren. I was panting, feeling sick. I rolled over, wretching to the side. Thankfully nothing came up.  
“Cauldron, what was that?!” I heard Cassian say. Mor said something that I couldn’t catch.  
Amren bent down and tilted her head, looking at me.  
“I think...it’s a curse.”  
I couldn’t remember what she was talking about. What I had been about to say that caused so much pain.  
“Whatever it is, it’s blocked,” Rhysand said. I looked away from both of them and stifled a sudden sob, the sound being wretched from me. I knew if I started, it would only lead to hysterics.  
Breath.  
I took a shuddering breath, wishing desperately for space.

“I’m alright,” I finally rasped. I looked at Amren, searching her face. “What happened?”  
“You fell out of your chair screaming,” she said. “After you mentioned Hybern.”  
I flinched at the name and ran a hand through my hair. I rested my arms on my knees.  
“What kind of curse?”  
“An old one it seems,” she replied.   
I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head.  
“I seem to be a popular person,” I said finally.  
“We’ll find a way to break it, Myriad,” he said. I nodded gratefully and looked at him.  
“Thank you...for dragging me out.”  
Rhysand tilted his head, an eyebrow raising curiously.  
“I didn’t do anything.”  
“I heard someone call my name,” I said evenly. I stood up and Rhysand glanced at each me. I flushed and shook my head.  
“Never mind,” I said. I felt a prickle on my neck and I looked across the table as Azriel materialized from shadow into the dining room.  
“What happened?”  
The shadowsinger looked directly at me and I stared at him, my breath stopping in my chest. It snapped into place like a hammer driving a nail through my soul. I stood stock still, staring at the Illyrian I didn’t know, who’d saved me on several occasions in my life.   
I stumbled back a step and winnowed despite the wards around the house.   
I knew who had called my name and I knew why.  
The shadowsinger was my mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah.....surprise....mates. Bear with me y'all, it'll be a slow burn for sure. I have a plan.  
> Also tell me how I'm writing the main characters, I don't want anyone OOC. Advice is wanted!


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright! I feel like I've hit a stale sort of stagnant part in my writing. I don't know. Is this boring to you guys? I hope not. I'm reading ACOMAF right now to follow along but not have the book rewritten. I want more original characters in here too, but I'll figure that out after this chapter Anyway, reviews are always looked after and I'd like to hear your opinions!

 I found Velaris easy to navigate. It was a nice city, much to nice. The fae that dwelled there were just as nice as the city. I didn’t get suspicious or afraid looks, or leering plotting looks from possible criminals. I think that was what had startled me the most. I didn’t see any crime. Perhaps it was because the city had been guarded from the outside world, preserved from all the filth the rest of Prythian suffered from. I had seen what happened to the Summer Court, I’d been there when Amarantha’s forces massacred the only court to rebel against Amarantha.  
 Velaris though, was untouched.  
 Perhaps it was a stroke of luck that the former High lords had protected the city, but how it remained a secret from Amarantha, I’d never know. It made me sour almost, seeing how these people hadn’t suffered, hadn’t known the pain the rest of Prythian had felt during those forty nine years. It wasn’t their fault however, and I had gotten over that.  
  The city by twilight was beautiful and I took my time wandering down the streets, looking into shops and walking by apartments. I needed to occupy my mind with something else, calm the fire that had been raging since I left the townhouse.  
  My thoughts turned to the shadowsinger; my mate. It was cruel almost, that the bond had happened so soon in my life. Mates didn’t mean we had to love each other or even be together. After all, the bond hadn’t snapped for Azriel, it was obvious that it hadn’t.  I just couldn’t be around him, it was still raw, my mind still hazed over with a sudden animal lust for him.  
 I was afraid of this bond. Afraid of what it’d lead to.  
 I had a lover once. I was so young and it was fast, sexual. I think I had some delusion about us being something, about me moving on from what had happened early in my life. One night, I told him everything about me, I spilled my guts to him. I remembered the disgust cearly. He called me a lying whore. Said he couldn’t wed a sullied female.  
 The words had been cruel and cutting. My temper, less contained then had flared and I burned the male. Scarred his pretty face. Weeks after that, he’d sent some men after me. When they had found me, they weren’t gentle with me.  
 They left me alive, but left me up for dead. I was so beautiful before them, but they had carved my skin with their knives, raped me and dumped me in the Middle for whatever dwelled there to finish me off.  
  It was the Middle that made me strong.  
  That was the reason I couldn’t love. The feeling wasn’t in me anymore. I just couldn’t summon it up. Love involved trust and I couldn’t trust. Trust was a weakness I couldn’t give in to.  
  I never trusted Amarantha, she used me, but she made me strong. I looked up to her for a time. Until the massacre at the Summer court, when she had me to terrible things for her.  
 I roused myself from my thoughts then, thinking about Amarantha was still too painful. Still brought up memories I had done a good job of locking up. So I wandered into the first bar I found and set myself up in a corner, away from other drinking and dancing fae. I had no money, so I ordered a tab under Rhysand’s name. The barkeeper had protested, but a good snarl had him complying.  
   I wanted to get drunk, drown every stupid feeling in the cozy, euphoric bliss that was intoxication. Alcohol was my favorite blessing. It gave me the ability to cloud and forget. Perhaps I could even forget the mating bond.  
    
               
                                                           ***   ***   ***

 It was after midnight, the music had grown loud and thumping and I was drunk. I had drained two bottles of pungent whisky and was starting on a third when someone sat down at my table. I poured my glass with an unsteady hand and set the bottle down.  
  “Table’s taken. Go bother someone else,” I snarled, draining the glass in a single gulp. I reached for my bottle and the stranger slid it away from me. I looked up then, feeling my temper begin to rise as the alcohol unraveled my self control.  
 “I think you’ve had plenty to drink already. You should stop while you can still stand.”  
 I blinked, focusing on...shit.  
 “Cassian...my lord...how very noble of you to come after me. Rhysand is spoiling me with so many lovely looking watch dogs.”  
 The large Illyrian warrior looked at me, his eyes paying too close attention to me. They seemed to take in everything about me. They were clever, quick and I knew he saw more through me than I would’ve liked.  
  “It was easy finding you,” he said. “You don’t cover your tracks well.”  
  I shrugged and lifted my leg up and set my heel on my chair base. I threw my arm back, letting it rest on the back of my chair.  
  “And why should I cover my tracks from you? I’m not hiding.”  
  Cassian poured himself a drink and sat back, tossing the drink back. I watched him swallow, my eyes trailing over his ruggedly handsome face. My eyes ran down his neck, watching his throat bob, down to his well muscled chest and shoulders. His wings sprawled behind him, dark membranous wings that I’m sure were a glory to behold in full span.  
  The Illyrian general looked back at me, a smirk gracing his face when he saw how I was staring at him.  
  “Is the Rhys’s new fox hungry?” he taunted.  
 I felt my nostrils flare, the name hitting too close.  
  “Shut up.”  
  Cassian poured himself another drink, watching me.  
  “Why? That’s what you are isn’t it? You go from being Amarantha’s little fuck buddy to Azriel’s special selvage project and now Rhys wants us to work with you? Your deal with Hybern is much too convenient for my taste. How you just managed to escape? Please.”  
  I was on my feet in an instant, hurtling the table between us aside. Cassian was on his feet as well with a taunting grin on his face. The bar had gone silent and the crowd was watching us. Cassian held up a hand, beckoning me forward.  
  “Outside.”  
  I didn’t wait for him to get outside before I slammed into the Illyrian with all my strength, meeting a hard resistance. Cassian grabbed my by the back of my neck and threw me out the bar door. I hit the cobbled streets heavily and rolled, every bone in my body groaning in protest. I was too drunk for this fight but he had hit a nerve that ran too deep for me to ignore.  
 I got up and my hand went to my boot, to the knife I realized I didn’t have. I heard Cassian tsk and I watched him walk out of the bar, rolling his big shoulders.  
 “Let it out, little fox. You won’t hurt me,” he said, his voice light.  
 “Your mistake,” I said, loosening. A fight would be welcome. “I use males like you for practice.”  
 I winnowed then, close to Cassian, my fist flying at his jaw. He blocked it too quickly and was thrown back by a punch to my unprotected stomach. The blow was too hard, too close to my still unhealed wound and I crumpled. My breath made a horrible wet sound as I struggled for air. Cassian crouched down next to me, his face inches from mine.  
 “See, that’s the problem with you,” he said lowly. “You’re hot, your temper gets in the way. It’s easy to get a rise from you, Myriad. All I wanted to know is why you’re targeting us, what are you doing for Hybern?”  
   I gasped, my breath coming back. I tasted blood on my tongue and I spat it at Cassian, hitting him in the face. He flinched, his eyes closing on instinct and I slammed forward, my hand on his throat.  
  “I’m not working for Hybern,” I said, though my voice shook dangerously. I felt a hysterical sob claw it’s was out of my throat, threatening to send me into a wrath I knew would be irreversible.  
 Cassian grabbed my wrist and twisted it, making me cry out in pain. He shoved me back and was on top of me, his knee digging into my stomach, where my scar was. I let out a sob of pain, struggling weakly.  
 “You’re too close, Fox,” Cassian hissed, his voice a frightening pitch. “You’re too close to us.”  
  I gasped, my breath itching.  
  “Take me to Rhysand.”  
  Cassian let up on his knee and he stared at me. I tried to sit up.  
 “Take me to Rhysand!”  
  I knew what I had to do to get them to trust me. Because I wanted to be part of them, I had a reason to be. Perhaps it was because of Amarantha, being her pet. Maybe I wanted to spite her in death the way I couldn’t in life. I wanted to reverse all the ill I’d done because I wasn’t proud of it. I didn’t want to become like the very men who had murdered my mother, had me defiled. I think Cassian saw all this in my eyes, because I watched his hazel ones cloud and soften for the barest of seconds.  
  The next second, I blinked and we winnowed, ending up in the townhouse, on the carpet in the fancy foyer. Cassian got off me then and stood, letting me gasp and roll to the side, coughing threateningly.  
 I felt Rhysand before I heard his smooth footsteps. I felt a pang in my chest that I knew was from Azriel as he followed Rhysand into the foyer.  
  “Shit Cassian! What did you do?” Azriel exclaimed. I looked up, sneering at them. I could feel blood seeping into my shirt, warm and sticky.  
   “Found her drunk,” Cassian said offhandedly. “I followed her through Velaris. No real pattern to her movements. She wanted you, Rhys.”  
    I struggled to my feet, looking over as Amren and Feyre came down the stairs, the latter holding a book. I tilted my head up, my hair sliding over my ears.  
  “Good, now that you’re all here,” I croaked, pressing my hand to my side. Feyre’s brows furrowed in question but I steamed ahead before she could say anything. “My sincerity was doubted, with good reason.”  
   I was about to lay myself naked to them.  
  I looked up at Rhysand, jerking my chin up.  
  “I want you to look in my mind. Anything you want, lay it out,” I continued, breathing in wetly. “I want you to know that I wasn’t just Amarantha’s ‘fuck buddy’, as that overgrown bat put it.”  
  Rhysand had grown still, he watched me, his blue eyes shifting with some emotion I couldn’t place.   
   Finally Rhysand simple shook his head.  
   “No. If it’s trust you’re wanting, then you need to earn it,” he said quietly. “That’s up to you to accomplish.”  
  He looked at Cassian and I could tell the Illyrian was going to get an earful later. Not that the male would listen. Cassian merely snorted and looked back at me, his eyes just as bad as a blade being stabbed in my gut.  
  I averted my gaze to the floor, half relieved that Rhysand hadn’t followed through with what I’d asked him to do. One thing was certain however, I wasn’t going to stay a minute under the Highlord’s roof.  
 “I’ll take her.”  
   I looked up from the carpet and my face drained when I saw Amren walk forward. She stared at me, so piercingly that I felt like Rhysand’s examination had been only a scrap of what Amren could see with those silver eyes of hers.  
   “What do you mean take her?” Cassian said lowly. Amren let her eyes slide to Cassian and she snorted.  
   “She needs a place to stay and someone to teach her control. I’ll let her stay with me till she finds a place of her own.”  
  She looked at me, her face as unfriendly as they came.  
  “We start your training in the morning, Cassian can handle the physical side of things with you. If you’re going to be of any use, you need to get into shape because you’re sorely out of it.”  
  I opened my mouth, protest on my lips but Amren stopped me.  
  “Your most important talent now is your ability to remove magic from something,” she said rather harshly. I felt my stomach churn uncomfortably. “So we need to work on that before you become dangerous to yourself and those around you.”  
  She looked up at Rhysand and nodded.  
  “Take Feyre to the prison tomorrow, I’ll have this one training when you return. Maybe we’ll be able to assess how useful she’ll be.”  
 Rhysand nodded and looked at me, a smile sliding onto his perfect features.  
 “Rest well then.”

    
                                                                 ***   ***   ***

  Light hit my eyes and my blanket was wrenched off of me. I groaned, hiding my face in the pillow, attempting to block out the light. My head hurt, my mouth felt like I’d been chewing wool.  
  “I let you sleep long enough, get up.”  
  I felt a hand touch my shoulder and I lurched up, smacking the hand away.  
  “Don’t touch me,” I said lowly, my entire vision swimming from the hangover I knew was going to be with me all day. I focused on Amren, bending over me. She raised an eyebrow and shoved a glass of water in my hands.  
  “Drink that and get bathed. You smell.”  
  I thirstily drank the water down and set the glass on the floor beside my pile of blankets that Amren had supplied me. She pointed me to a bathroom where there was already a steaming amount of hot water in the tub there. She left me to myself and I quickly got my bath over with, braiding my wet hair back and away from my face.  
  Amren had laid out some simple clothes for me that consisted of the strange flowy pants that seemed to be typical Night court fashion and a short, fitted jacket with tight sleeves. I dressed quickly, slipping on a pair of dainty looking shoes that I immediately hated.  
  I found Amren pouring over a large book with old text. She looked up at me and motioned me to take a seat on a plush cushion.  
  “You look good in gray,” she said, looking me over. “I don’t blame you for getting in a fight with Cassian. He’s an overgrown pup who says too much.”  
 I made no comment, settling for leaning forward to look at the book.  
 “What’s that?”  
 Amren slid the book to me.  
 “It’s about Meirleach. How they work. There isn’t much known about them, girl,” she said. I peered at the book, cringing at a few choice words describing who the account was about.  
   “There were only three known ones. Two of which lived near a thousand years ago, both hailed from the Autumn court and they served Beron. Rumor was that the one, a female by the name of Narcissa was his illegitimate daughter, but that’s never been proven. The other, more recent was a Winter Court male,” Amren said, as she watched me read. I didn’t know all this. I knew my kind were rare, but I didn’t know all that about the Autumn court.  
   “Your parentage could have some reason as to why you have this gift.”  
  “It isn’t a gift,” I said quietly. I looked up from the book and straightened a corner of the page that had been folded back.  
 Amren leaned forward, too eagerly for my liking.  
 “What does it feel like?”  
 I licked my lips, wishing for more water.  
  “It’s...it’s like you’re stripping every essence of someone’s soul from them. Everything that makes them unique in their magic, you take from them. They’re husks afterwards and if they live long enough afterwards, they’re...dull, gray. You can’t smell anything from them, they don’t glow, there’s nothing of their magic left. They’re dead and walking.”  
  Amren’s eyes softened and she studied my face.  
  “You didn’t like it then?”  
  “It’s why I didn’t try to learn how to freely do it,” I snapped. “I have hardly any control over it.”  
  Call me weak, call me a coward. I didn’t care.  
  “You still need to master it,” she said. She pointed to the book. “The Winter Court Fae, he died. The power consumed him along with several others when he lost control. It’s quite dangerous. You can strip everyone and everything around you, taking in all that magic would be too much for your body to hold and you can die.”  
  I blanched and rubbed my knees nervously.  
 “I won’t lie, I don’t really want to die,” I said slowly. I shut the book and licked my lips. “How do you propose we practice.”  
  Amren grinned wickedly and stood up. I looked up at her before scrambling to my feet.  
  “This is when we get involved with Cassian.”  
   I felt my stomach knot almost instantly. Cassian was still tender ground with me.  
  “Why?” I demanded.  
  Amren didn’t answer me, instead she walked to the door and headed down to the street below. I growled as I followed her down and out onto the street. For someone so little, Amren walked fast.  
  We headed straight for the big townhouse and Amren walked right in the front door without bothering to knock. I followed behind her like a puppy, at least shutting the door behind me.  
  I stiffened when I felt Azriel before I saw him. He entered the foyer and I saw him flinch in the slightest way when Amren asked him where Cassian was. He pointed her to the commander and Amren marched off the find her quarry.   
  Azriel and I stood in silence together until he finally spoke.  
  “What were you and Cassian fighting over?”  
  I shrugged and picked at my jacket, curling my toes in my shoes.  
  “I was drunk. I can’t remember now,” I lied easily. Azriel watched me, his gaze cutting deep into me. I swallowed and scuffed my feet.  
   “Just words. He was picking at me. I shouldn’t have let it get to me.”  
   Azriel nodded slowly and rubbed the siphon on his hand.  
   “Cas doesn’t really have a filter. He’ll tell you what he thinks of you to your face and not bat an eyelash. If he respects you, he’ll let you know that too. He’s a good soul really.”  
  I snorted softly and stared at my fancy shoes, scraping the toe on the carpet.   
  “He’s had yet to prove it to me.”  
   I looked back up at Azriel, feeling my breath hitch in my throat. Raw, the bond was still so raw. Every breath Azriel took I could feel like a second pulse in my neck.  
  “Azriel--”  
  I was interrupted when I heard footsteps and Amren returned with Cassian in tow, the Illyrian looked just as pleased to see me as I was to see him. He pulled a siphon off his hand and threw it at me. I caught it in one hand and glanced down at it.  
  “What’s this for?” I asked. Amren snatched the siphon from me and set it on a small table then pulled the table into the middle of the foyer.  
  “Practice,” she said as she walked back over and stood behind me. I stared at the siphon, realizing it had magic stored in it from Cassian. I jerked my chin back at Cassian.  
  “What’s he here for?”  
  Cassian opened his mouth but Amren cut him off.  
  “Motivation. Now focus and try and drain that siphon, girl.”  
  I rubbed my hands together, my mouth suddenly dry as I stared at the siphon. It wasn’t a fae I had to drain, how hard could it be?  
  I burrowed into myself, trying to feel for my elusive well of power. I felt a small pull, py power rousing almost sleepily. It lazily stirred, letting me feel the pull from the siphon.   
   That was when my power made for the siphon and stopped. I threw my power at the siphon, battering it. My power suddenly sputtered out and I felt nothing then. I tried to gather up my power, beckon the tendrils to the siphon. It was no use, my power had hidden back inside me and ignored my attempts to use it.  
  Frustrated, I snapped back into the present. I blinked, feeling rather sick. I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder and that’s when I realized I was sitting on the floor, my legs at odd angles beneath me.  
  “You fell over,” Amren said, her face appearing beside the hand on my shoulder. She shoved a glass of water in my hands and knelt by me.  
   I sipped on the water and soon gulped it down, draining the glass. I rolled the glass in my hand and looked at the siphon still on the table.  
   “It wouldn’t go to the siphon. Did you have it guarded?” I asked, my tone accusing. Amren stood up and ignored me. I swung to my feet and whirled on her.  
   “You did,” I snapped. I pointed the glass to the siphon. “You didn’t tell me you’d have it guarded!”  
   Amren shrugged and leaned against a chair, watching me with her silver eyes.   
   “I wanted to see how good you are and you’re not very good at all, so I’ve found out.”  
   I snarled and stalked over to Amren, ignoring my instincts that screamed at me to hold my temper in. I wanted to smack the half lidded look off Amren’s.  
   “You little…”  
   Amren gave me a sudden sharp look, her eyes flashed a warning and I reigned my temper in and ground my teeth, whirling back to the table. I grabbed the siphon and all but threw it at Cassian.  
   “I’ve had enough practice today..”  
   

                                                           ***   ***   ***

    
  I didn’t stick around Velaris after the ordeal with the siphon. Instead I decided I needed to fly and exercise my wings which hadn’t seen much use since Hybern. It felt good to fly after so long.   
  I flew out of Velaris, towards the mountains to the east. The landscape began to look familiar, sights I hadn’t seen my younger years. I was born in the Illyrian mountains to the north of the Night Court.   
   I landed a few miles out of Velaris after flying for a good hour. I was tired when I landed by a mountain stream, eagerly drinking the crystal like water. I folded my wings behind me and straightened, looking up at the few trees rising above me.   
   Amren had tricked me and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the feeling of being used like that. It brought back memories of Amarantha.   
   I sighed and reached back, letting my hair down. My shoes I kicked off and threw into the woods at my side. My bare toes wriggled in the grass under my feet and I started to pace. I had to figure out my power though. I didn’t like the idea of dying.  
   I kicked at a patch of leaves and snarled, lighting some of the leaves on fire. I stared at the embers, taking care that they didn’t set fire to the whole wood. I flopped down and let my shoulders sag forward. I caught one of the embers in my hand, letting it dance over my skin.  
  “Autumn court,” I whispered, snorting softly. I let the ember die and I laid back on the grass, my wings rustling slightly. Perhaps that was where I needed to go for answers. I was a spy after all. It could be done.

 

  


	8. Chapter Seven

The sentries paid no heed to the little red fox that picked its way through the autumn leaves and brush. It flicked it’s tail, giving them a look with it’s yellow eyes before it leapt over a rock and passed into the entrance to the lower levels of the Autumn court, an entrance the guards were guarding.   
  The fox trotted silently down, towards the glowing, warm light that shone at the end of the long hallway. It was cool and crisp underground, ventilated by a system that allowed the outside air to filter into the underground city.   
  The animal stopped right outside the entrance and it sat down and began to stretch almost grotesquely. It’s shape twisted and rippled, it’s red fur began to disperse and gather on its head. The limbs lengthened and the body grew until instead of a fox sitting on the ground, it was a female fae. She shook her head, her curls falling about her shoulders before she drew her hair back and pulled it into a tie. She blinked her russet colored eyes, the same color as the fox’s eyes and smiled.   
  The Autumn court was easy to penetrate if one knew the ways to get in.

 

                                                         ***   ***   ***

  I had been to the Autumn court twice before and knew my way around the winding city, built around the rocks and trees. I rather liked the place, aside from the overbearing feeling of dominance and excellence that Beron had on his people. It made for an unhappy sort of city, but beautiful nonetheless.   
  The city seemed to value preserving nature, yet conquering it at the same time. Almost like flame, the symbol of the Autumn court. I liked the way the sun shone through little caves and canopies in the trees, every corner of the city holding a new tree or tunnel. However, the heart of the city itself, the Highlord’s palace, was a thing to behold on it’s own.  
  Beron’s house was built above ground, though it’s levels reached far beneath the ground and high up in the trees, gracefully swinging above it. It was made of a pale wood and gold, open archways with gentle sloping roofs artfully made with interlocking redwood panels. Great pillars stood by the entrance, marking the watchtowers of the Highlord’s guard.  
  It was to the palace that I was headed, dressed as a lower class servant. I had stolen the clothing a long time ago and sewed the proper insignia on the white apron I now wore over ankle length gold dress made from a simple wool weave.   
  I had done my research well and was going to the house of Elrissa, the mother of Narcissa, the since deceased meirleach that Beron had employed. I needed answers from her, about her daughter, about Beron.  
  Her house wasn’t hard to find. It was on the outermost point of the palace, where the servants were housed. It wasn’t anything luxurious, more of a tenet building than an actual house.   
   I stopped the first fae I could find, a pretty young girl with light brown hair and big dewy eyes that reminded me of a young deer.  
   “I’m looking for Elrissa? She’s my aunt,” I said, letting my voice grow shy and timid. The girl looked at me with her large eyes and I saw a frightened flinch in her features.  
  “She’s on the first story, her room is down the hall there,” the girl replied, giving me a good detailed set of directions. I smiled at her and bobbed my head, heading off in the directions given.  
  I found the room quickly. I knocked on the battered, old wood door, looking around the hallway as I waited. The servant’s quarters weren’t anything impressive at all. The walls were cracked and old, almost as if they’d been forgotten by the rest of the palace. More than likely they had been.  
  “Who’s at the door?”  
   I looked back at the door and tried the knob, it gave in easily and I walked in the dark room. I frowned, squinting to see inside.  
   “Who’s there?”  
   I whipped my head to the raspy voice that was followed by a small figure. I lit my hand with a fae light and held it above my head, starting when I saw the female in front of me.  
   She was small, tiny, frail...everything about this female was undernourished. Her gaunt face was surrounded by a cloud of dark silver laced hair and her eyes...cauldron, her eyes were gone. Where the sockets were was scarred over, what was left of her tattered eyelids had sunken inside the woman’s eye sockets, giving her the look of some kind of undead creature.  
   “Are you...Elrissa?” I asked lowly, toeing the door shut behind me. The female flinched at the sound and I reached out my hand. “I’m going to touch you, don’t be startled.”  
   She flinched again when I set my hand on her shoulder and led her to a couch I could see in the corner of the barren room. Blankets were strewn over it, suggesting the couch was also her bed.  
  “Do you have candles?” I asked, seating her.  
  “I-I don’t know,” she whispered back, she put her arms under her and I froze, letting my fae light go to hover above us.  
  She had no hands. Only stumps.   
  “Are you Elrissa?” I asked again. This time the female nodded, so I sat beside her and hesitantly put my hand on her knee.  
  “My name is Myriad, I...I’m like your daughter was. I need to know...what happened to her.”  
  Elrissa jumped and she turned her head to me, reaching up with a stump to brush my shoulder, then my chin.   
   “What are you? What court?”  
   “I don’t have one. My mother was Illyrian, my father was from here. I don’t know who he is.”  
   Elrissa touched my lips and nose. I tried not to shudder at the touch.   
   “Elrissa, I really need--”  
   “Why are you here?” Elrissa whispered, dropping her stumps.   
   I worked my jaw slightly before I carefully pieced together my answer.  
   “I need answers,” I replied slowly. “I read about your daughter, about our kind. I know about Beron being the father but I need to hear everything from your side. I need to know how Narcissa mastered this...ability.”  
   Elrissa turned her face away from me and shook her head.  
   “Cissa...poor little Cissa.”  
   I held my breath and Elrissa continued.  
   “I worked as a lady’s maid for our Lady. Beron took a fancy and...I couldn’t refuse him, not my High lord. Well...we were together in secret for almost a year then I became with child. She was born such a little thing.”  
   Elrissa smiled in a ghostly sort of way and I wondered what she was feeling, remembering her child. I too wondered what that must feel like, holding something so little that you could call yours.  
   “Narcissa was five when her powers bloomed. She was playing with some of the kitchen girls and I’m not sure what happened, but they fought, so Cissa said. She stripped both girls of their magic. It was horrible.  
  “Later, Cissa and I were taken to see Beron and he wanted her to train with the other Meirleach he had under his command. So...who was I to disobey. They took my baby and they made her something terrible. She was fifteen when she killed the other Meirleach, drained him and killed him. Beron was so pleased about it, had her official revealed to his court, illegitimacy aside.”  
  I shuddered to think of someone that powerful. She was so young, only fifteen and she stripped and killed a full grown fae male?  
   “Beron killed her then, didn’t he?” I whispered, setting my hand on Elrissa’s shoulder. Elrissa’s entire body caved in and she let out a sob.  
   “She was only nineteen! H-he killed her. She trusted him and I told her not too but she...he killed her…”  
   Elrissa leaned into my touch, putting her face on my chest. I stiffened, but held the female close, rubbing her back as soothingly as I could.  
   “What happened to you? How did you…”  
   “Beron took out m-my eyes and took off my hands...t-to keep me from using spells, witchcraft,” Elrissa moaned, falling into sobs again. I felt my blood run cold in my veins. Elrissa was a witch, like my mother. Perhaps then...it wasn’t the Autumn court’s bloodline but something else.  
  “Elrissa, listen to me,” I pulled the female up, holding her straight. “The other Meirleach, was his mother a witch too?”  
  Elrissa’s face crinkled and she held her breath.  
  “I don’t know...she isn’t living anymore. She died a long time ago. Killed herself.”  
  I swore quietly and let go of Elrissa. I stood and began to pace the room, trying to process all this information.  
  “You don’t know who your father is...do you child?”  
  I looked down at Elrissa and walked back to her, bending down.  
  “No...I don’t.”  
  The female pointed her face to me and I fought back a shudder, feeling as if she were staring at me with those empty eye sockets.  
  “The Autumn court has a curse on it, it’s males bed witches and breed monsters,” she said quietly.   
  “Who’s my father?”  
  If it were Beron, I could handle that, it would make sense, yet at the same time part of me wondered why and how a High lord could get in and out of the Night court undetected.   
   Elrissa touched my chest and smiled, showing off her teeth.  
   “The Highlord’s eldest leaves his mark on you.”  
   I felt my face drain of color and I stared at Elrissa. Cauldron...the Highlord’s son…?  
   “How do you know?” I hissed and gripped Elrissa’s knee.  
   She merely laughed at me and brushed my hand off, falling into a violent coughing fit.  
  “You sound like him. You feel like him, your arrogance, fire, the way you demand to know things like everything belongs to you. You’re his daughter, I can smell it. I may be blind, Myriad, but I was gifted with a deeper sight. I can see into your soul.”  
  I stood up and glared down at the woman, recalling my fae light back into my hand.  
  “If it’s vengeance you want for what he did to your mother,than you’ll have to get stronger. Eris is as cunning as his father, more so even. He’s the heir to this court after all,” Elrissa said quietly. I backed out of the room, towards the door, not wanting to turn my back on the fae.  
  “I’ll be careful,” I replied. Elrissa simply laughed at me and shook her head.  
  “Take care little fox,” she whispered. “The hounds are on the hunt.”

 

                                                          ***   ***   ***

   I was back in Velaris in two days time, still reeling from the news I had gathered from Elrissa. I had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t the Autumn court’s line that fathered the Meirleaches, instead it was the result of a fae mixing with a witch. Whether or not a meirleach was always born I didn’t know.  
  I wandered through the city, back to the town house, figuring it’d be a good idea to check back in.   
   I folded my wool jacket about me a bit tighter, the air getting colder as we got closer to the start of winter. I maybe, may or may not have stolen myself some clothing when I was in the Autumn court. My clothes were an assortment of golds and browns, looking oddly off set with the rest of Velaris.   
   I made my way to the town house and knocked on the door. It was opened by a young fae, one of Rhysand’s half wraith twins. I smiled at her and nodded my head.  
  “Is Rhysand at home?”  
   She let me into the foyer, not giving me an answer. I looked about the room and moved into the house, realizing I was rather hungry. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and snuck further into the house, looking around till I found the kitchen.  
   I was sure Rhysand wouldn’t mind if I ate. I snuck in the kitchen and found a bowl of apples. I snatched one and almost choked on my first bite when I realized that I wasn’t alone in the room.  
   My knife I kept on my leather vambrace under my sleeve slipped into my palm and I whipped around only to see Mor. The pretty blond haired fae eyed the knife in my hand and I felt my face heat up as I swallowed my bite of food and slid the knife back up into my sheath.  
   “Sorry...I uh…” I shifted on my feet and pointed to the bowl of apples. “I was hungry.”  
   Mor tilted her head and narrowed her brown eyes at me.  
   “Where were you? Amren said you disappeared after some sort of training,” she asked, looking over my clothing. I shrugged and took a bite of my apple, watching the much older female.  
   “I went to um...investigate something. In the Autumn court.”  
   Mor’s eyes widened then narrowed just as fast. I held up my free hand, stopping her before she said anything.  
   “Relax, I went to talk to a female named Elrissa. She has something to do with what Amren was making me read, about the meirleach,” I said hurriedly. I set the apple core down on the table and took off my jacket and draped it on a chair.  
   “Amren said that Beron’s line may hold some sort of skipped gene for my abilities. From what I found though, I think it’s because of the witches.”  
   Mor was staring at me in a way I wasn’t sure if I should feel threatened or not. I continued though, feeling I had to fill the silence.  
   “Which it makes sense since my mother was a witch, the same as Elrissa. I mean, she was a witch.”  
   I fell into an awkward silence, watching Mor stare at me. Finally, she took a few steps towards me, eyeing my face.  
   “That’s why you’re so familiar,” she whispered. I struggled not to back up.  
   Mor swallowed and shook her head.  
   “Eris is your father?”  
   I nodded and moved my eyes away from Mor.   
   “Yes. That’s what Elrissa told me. Her daughter...Narcissa, she was Beron’s daughter...so…”  
   I looked at Mor and rubbed my arm. I could just feel the tension in the air between us. I had the feeling that Mor and Eris weren’t on the best of terms. Then again, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t involve myself much with social gossip and stories.  
   Mor let out a breath through her nose and rubbed the bridge of her nose.  
   “I…” she shook her and finally just stared at me, both her hands on her hips. “How did you get into the Autumn court?!”  
   “Same way I get into anywhere. I was a spy you know.”  
   Mor snorted and walked around me, getting an apple for herself. I watched her and I pushed back some of my hair.  
   “I...I’m sorry for the way I acted before,” I said suddenly. Mor didn’t say anything as she grabbed a knife from a drawer and started to peel the apple. I continued. “I really haven’t...had anyone...to work with before. I’m not used to people really. It’s hard adapting I guess.”  
   Mor looked over her shoulder at me and nodded once.  
    “Azriel likes you,” she said abruptly. I felt my whole body tighten and my stomach knot. Why did she have to say that?  
    Mor easily sliced into her apple and gave me a look that I knew was dangerous.  
   “And just because Azriel likes you, doesn’t mean we all do. I don’t trust you, no one does. Tread carefully Myriad. Azriel is my friend, if you do anything, anything to hurt him, I will end you.”  
   I swallowed and nodded, picking up my jacket. I gave Mor a look before I walked from the kitchen.  
   “Warning taken.”  
    Angrily, I walked back into the foyer, ready to go back out onto the streets of Velaris again and ignore the circle completely. I figured Rhysand could wait. I needed a drink or something.  
     
   It wasn’t a drink I found as I went out. What I found instead was a shop that I’d never seen before, in a district that I didn’t think I’d care to go down.   
  It was a little music shop with instruments hanging in the windows. Violins, fiddles, flutes. Old instruments and new ones. I stared at the shop, looking up at the two other stories above it, living quarters it seemed.  
   A long time ago, in another life, I used to amuse myself by playing music. I was gifted with it and it always brought me comfort. After a while I fell away from it and hadn’t picked up an instrument in years. What little music remained in my soul was killed Under the Mountain.  
   “You can come in, you know.”  
   I looked down at the shop’s entrance, at a little black haired boy about nine or ten. He had his hands on his hips and he looked as if he’d drag me into the shop even if I said I didn’t want to come in.  
   I couldn’t help but smile at him. He had roused me from my morbid thoughts and I now directed all my attention to him.  
   “I don’t play music,” I explained. The boy looked astonished. He darted forward and grabbed my hand and pulled me into the shop.  
   “Grampie! I found a girl who doesn’t play music!”  
   I let the boy pull me forward and I was careful to watch where I walked. The shop was absolutely cluttered with instruments, instrument repair items and other things I couldn’t begin to figure out what the were.  
  The boy let go of me and ran behind a counter to fetch his grandfather, at least who I thought was his grandfather.I snorted softly and walked around the shop, trailing my fingers over a shelf, flicking a bit of dust away. I saw a small fiddle on the shelf and I bent down to look at it. I couldn’t help but smile at the little flowers someone had taken the time to paint on it, even though the little indigo bluebells were faded and worn.  
  “Theo! Lad, slow down...Oh, m’lady.”   
   I straightened and looked behind me when the boy came back with his grandfather in tow. I smiled slightly at him and nodded my head.  
   “Hello. You have a very persuasive boy there, sir,” I said as I gestured to the boy. The grandfather, an older fae with silvery hair and a kind face, set his hands on the boy’s shoulders and smiled apologetically.   
   “Theo likes to bring me customers. He says you don’t play music? Is that right?”  
   I nodded and looked back at the fiddle. The shopkeeper gasped and walked forward, picking the fiddle up. He ran his hand lovingly over the instrument and plucked a few cords, adjusting the strings.  
   “Ah...she’s caught your eye then, m’lady?” he asked, giving me a mischievous look. I felt my smile widen and I shrugged.  
   “I suppose, sir.”  
   The male chuckled and took the fiddle’s accompanying bow and turned back to me.  
  “Please, it’s Claudius,” he said. He handed me the fiddle and I took it. My fingers traced over the familiar strings.  
   “You have fiddler’s fingers, m’lady,” he said. I arched an eyebrow and ran a finger down the fiddle strings.  
   “Is that a thing?” I asked. “I used to play a long time ago.”  
    Theo clambered onto a stool behind me, his black curls bouncing adorably around his face.  
   Claudius handed me the bow and I took it, just to please the old fae and his boy.  
   “I really don’t play anymore,” I explained. Theo looked at me with his huge eyes and I sighed, drawing the bow over the strings. they let out a clear, mellow note, almost mournful. I frowned and tucked the instrument under my chin, adjusting my fingers to get a more happy tune, just to see the boy smile.  
   Theo who laughed at me and he put his arms around my neck, standing on his stool. I stiffened at the touch. It was odd, yet...childish and I didn’t quite mind it.   
   “You’re a natural,” he explained.  
   Claudius shrugged and nodded.  
   “Theo sees people as they go by. He drags them all in my shop, saying they’re naturals. More times than not he’s right and we give away an instrument,” he said. I looked at Theo, turning my head just so.  
   “Is that so?”  
   The boy simply giggled and hugged my neck tighter. Claudius smiled and shoed the boy off.  
   “Leave m’lady alone, lad.”  
   I laughed and stopped, almost choking on my laughter. I hadn’t laughed in...in such a long time. Claudius gazed at me and tilted his head, his dark blue eyes reading into me. I let him, feeling he meant no harm by it.  
   “Perhaps, m’lady needs a little harmony in her life? A little song can do a great deal of good,” he said quietly. I looked down at the fiddle and smiled, rubbing a bit of polished wood.  
  “Yes...it sounds rather nice doesn’t it?”  
  I looked at the old fae and smiled, feeling a little weight lift off my chest.  
  “Call me Myriad, sir.”  
  “That’s a beautiful name,” Claudius said. He gestured to the fiddle. “Please, take it, Myriad. As a gift.”  
  I blanched and shook my head.  
  “No please! I couldn’t just take this from you!”  
  Theo clambered up behind me again and pulled on my jacket.  
  “Take it! Grampie doesn’t give gifts much. Please??”  
   I sighed and crouched down, looking at the boy. He looked back at me with puppy  eyes and bit his lip. I smiled and nodded.  
   “Fine. I’ll take it for you,” I said. I looked up at Claudius. “But please, let me do something to repay you. I’ll feel guilty otherwise.”  
   Claudius shook his head.  
   “Nonsense. You can always come back and keep theo from trouble if you must do anything.”  
   Theo stuck out his tongue and I snorted, letting Claudius pack up my fiddle. I jerked my head to Theo and he trotted over to me. I slipped several gold coins into his little hands and put a finger to my lips.  
   “Don’t tell your grandfather,” I whispered, not wanting to freely accept a gift. If anything, it would help the two.  
   Theo nodded and leaned up to give my cheek a kiss. I let him and ruffled his hair, straightening up. Claudius’s eyes twinkled as he turned around and handed me my fiddle.  
  “Come back and visit.”

                                                              ***   ***   ***

    I went back to Amren’s place, waiting for her. I was sitting on my little pile of blankets experimenting with the fiddle. I didn't’t realize how out of practice I really was. It took me awhile to discover the instrument, but in a few hours time I was able to play a few slow melodies.  
  “So that’s what the screeching is.”  
  I opened my eyes and gave Amren a look as she came up into the attic, slinging a bag of books down on a low table. I set the fiddle down and set it in my lap.  
  “I used to play when I was younger. I thought I’d have a hobby. You seem to like to read so I thought I should play music.”  
  Amren looked at me, her eyes narrowing like a cat.  
  “You’re different. Did your little field trip into the Autumn court relieve some of your pressure?” she asked almost tauntingly.   
   I stood up and set my hands on my back and shrugged again.  
  “I...I don’t know yet. I found out who my father is though.”  
  Amren nodded and sighed, removing her chunky necklace and bracelets.  
   “Mor told me. You know she was betrothed to him?”  
  I looked at the older female and raised my lip. Mor could’ve been…  
  “I didn’t know that.”  
   Amren snorted and sat down.  
  “You don’t know a lot about us, girl,” she said. She looked at me and her face grew solemn.  
  “Rhysand and Feyre got back from the human realms this morning when you were gone. They have invited the human queens to a meeting.”  
   My brows shot into my hairline.  
   “Why them?!”  
  Amren tilted her head.  
  “You have a problem?”  
  I seethed through my teeth at the female, feeling like a child who no one thought was adequate enough to even tie a shoe.  
   “I’ve met them before, penetrated their courts. They’re surrounded by two faced silver tongued liars. They would sell one of their children if it meant getting what they wanted.”  
   “Rhys knows what he’s doing. Most of the time,” Amren said off handedly. “We go to the House of Wind in the morning for more of your training. We have to unlock this. That and you need to get in shape. You’re so scrawny a child could push you over.”  
  I growled and flung my hands up.  
  “Will I ever be good enough for you people? You know you’re all crazy?” I snapped. I pointed a finger at Amren. “You’re the worst.”  
   Amren smirked and waved a hand.  
   “Go whine to someone who cares.”  
  I ground my teeth and turned around to put my fiddle back in its case.  
  “I’m going out for dinner,” I muttered.   
  Amren raised her eyebrow and she actually looked curious.  
  “With who?”  
  I smiled back at her in a taunting way.  
  “Myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the characters of Theo and his grandfather are actually going to be a part, so don't think that they're just random people. I have fates for them....oh yes.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have good news guys! I have a beta! She's the lovely court-0f-dreamers on tumblr! Check her out! She's helped out so much with ideas and little typos I've missed.

I stared up at the clear blue sky, my back against the cold, hard ground of the training circle. My breath was puffing visibly in the cold air above me.  
"That lasted even less than the last time."  
I drew my brows together and put my hand over my face. If I could actually hit Cassian, I would punch his perfect nose into his perfect face. I sat up, my bruised body protesting terribly.  
I watched Cassian as he removed his shirt and wiped his face on it then threw the shirt aside and grinned at me, cocking an eyebrow up. I snarled and brushed a stray curl from my eyes, swearing I'd just cut all my hair off next time I got the chance.  
"Maybe if you actually taught me, instead of just putting me on my ass in the first few seconds, I'd learn something and be more fun for you to beat up," I snapped as I lurched to my feet, brushing my hands off on my pants.  
Cassian laughed lowly and flexed his arms, stretching his great wings. I rubbed my hand over my nose and watched Cassian move, trying to find any sort of weakness in him. I found none. He was a mass of rippling muscles, developed over the centuries of rigid training that I didn't have.  
I had nothing to boast. I was fit, sure, but I was small. Skinny, no weight to use in my favor.  
I shook out my hands and tilted my chin up. Cassian still wore his infernal smirk as he turned back to face me.  
"Ready to go again, Fox?" he taunted. I scowled at the name and crouched, my feet loosening slightly.  
"Shut up, you overgrown bat."  
Cassian laughed and struck at the same time.  
He met nothing but air, stumbled, but collected himself quickly. He turned around and I grinned at him as I winnowed fully behind him. I couldn't beat him by strength alone, so perhaps I could evade him.  
"You know that's cheating," Cassian drawled, casually walking forward. I backed up, giving him ground.  
"I'd rather stay alive."  
"As much as I enjoy putting you on your ass, I'm not going to kill you. You need to learn how to fight, not just to evade it."  
I shrugged and stood up straight, letting my hands drop to my side.  
"Maybe I won't let myself get close enough for a fight."  
Cassian's eyes dug into me harder than I found comfortable. I pulled up the collar of my shirt and shrugged my shoulders, looking past Cassian's shoulder.  
"Or perhaps you're scared you'll keep losing them. Have you ever won a fight, Myriad?"  
I rubbed my nose again and met Cassian's eyes.  
"You talk too much."  
"You don't talk enough. You want to be part of us, but you won't let yourself become part of us."  
I tossed my head and walked past Cassian.  
Cassian sneered. "Always walking away."  
I felt a hand on my upper arm and Cassian stopped me. He pulled me back to him, his face inches from mine.  
"You're not walking off this circle till you fight back," he said lowly. I pulled my arm back and went to slam my knee into Cassian's crotch but he caught my knee and crushed it in a tight grip.  
"Let go."  
Cassian let me wrench my knee back and I stumbled away from him.  
"Come back when you're not holding yourself back," Cassian said finally. He dusted his hands off and picked up his shirt from where he'd tossed it. "Tell Amren she can have her toy back."  
"I heard Cassian kicked you off the training grounds."  
I ignored the shadows that curled from the corner of the kitchen as I hungrily searched around for something to eat. I'd been skipping meals since the last one I had at the townhouse had me on the floor. I didn't want to repeat that.  
"He's just frustrated that you didn't come out to play with him. Although I don't see why he should complain, I'm a grand punching bag."  
I heard a quiet snort and Azriel materialized by the table, bits of shadow still clinging to him. I felt my hair stand on end and I looked anywhere but at the shadowsinger, keeping my breathing calm, my body relaxed.  
"Don't let him fool you," Azriel said and handed me a scone. I looked up at him and took it, sitting down to take a bite of it. I brushed the crumbs off my shirt and onto the floor.  
"How's the work with Amren?"  
I rolled my eyes and swallowed.  
"You already know the answer."  
"Maybe, but I'd like to hear it from you. You hardly ever join us for dinner, actually you never do. You seem to enjoy cloistering yourself up in your room with that...fiddle. It gets hard to sleep when you're screeching away in the early hours of the morning."  
I looked up at Azriel and pulled my brows together, setting my scone on the table.  
"First of all, I don't screech," I said just for clarification. "And maybe I don't want to keep falling out of my seat every time I'm grilled for information about….about…"  
I faltered again, my mind running a blank when I tried to speak about Hybern. It was frustrating. I knew something was wrong with me, I knew I had been a prisoner of Hybern for a reason but I could not think of why, or anything beyond escaping from the guardhouse.  
Azriel pulled out a chair and sat across from me. I relaxed and stiffened all in the same breath. Azriel smelled like...like pine and some sort of citrus I couldn't place. His scent wafted over me in a gentle wave and I relished in my mate's smell, wishing fervently that I could have that smell cling to me as well.  
"Hybern," Azriel finished for me. I nodded.  
"Rhys said you had some sort of curse on you, blocking out a part of your mind."  
"I don't know, I can't remember anything."  
I looked up at Azriel and rubbed my calloused knuckles and picked at a few scabs that I hadn't noticed before.  
"Azriel...are you and Mor…" I swallowed and looked back down at my knuckles. I don't know why I was asking. It wasn't my business if Azriel had a lover. Actually, nothing he did was any of my concern. I was jealous, territorial. I didn't want Mor to be anywhere near my mate. A mate I knew next to nothing about. "A thing? She seems to hate me for some reason. I think it's because, well I don't know why really. The other day, when I came back from the Autumn court she threatened me that if I hurt you…"  
Azriel was silent and I knew I had made a mistake bringing up the blond fae who held my mate's attention so well. I had the feeling she strung Azriel along, and I hated her for it. She was always there in front of Azriel, either ignoring his looks or simply leading him on like he was an obedient hound. It made me seeth inside.  
"I'm sorry. It's not my business," I said and got up from the table. Azriel reached out and grabbed my wrist lightly, keeping me there. I felt my throat close up and I watched him stand up. He was taller by a few inches, yet he made me feel like I was the tiniest speck of dirt beneath him.  
Azriel unfurled his wings, his calm face looking down at me with what could have been compassion, I wasn't sure.  
"Mor is...a friend," he seemed to have to work to get the word out. "A very protective friend. We all are protective of each other. They don't know you as well as I do, so they're-Cassian and Mor that is, are having a hard time adjusting to you. You just have to stick with us for a bit, earn their trust."  
I looked down at Azriel's scarred hand, wanting to stroke the burns there, learn about who had hurt my mate.  
"Do you trust me?"  
Azriel's mouth turned up in the barest of smiles and his shadows seemed to poke me and whisper in their master's ears about what they found.  
"Yes, I do."  
I sighed and set my hand over Azriel's, squeezing it very lightly and I returned his smile with my own.  
"I suppose now I'm obligated to humor you and be nice to your beastly friends?" I said, a try at humor. Azriel snorted dryly.  
"We're not so bad, Myriad."  
He let go of my wrist, his hand lingering for a second. I put my hands in my pockets and shuffled my feet.  
"Thank you Azriel."  
"If you need to talk with someone," Azriel said coolly, handing me the rest of my scone and another one. "Just look for me. I'll find you. We can talk."  
I felt my face heat and I took the offered food before I darted from the kitchen.  
I joined the circle for dinner that night and it actually went rather smoothly, aside from the looks I got from Mor and Cassian. Either way, I listened to the conversation more than I was a part of any. Occasionally Feyre or Rhys would ask me questions, which I answered to be polite, but I kept to myself.  
Later, when I had retired to my room, I didn't play my fiddle, remembering what Azriel had said about the screeching. It made me laugh a little, come to think of it.  
I fell asleep swiftly, the day's abuse catching up to me and I passed into a rather deep sleep.  
It was a dream, as far as I knew. A bad dream.  
I was in Hybern, I knew the walls, the smell, the feel of the place. How could I forget it so soon?  
"That will be all."  
I felt my body clench up when I heard that voice. The King of Hybern.  
"Myriad, how good of you to join us. You're awake, open your eyes. I'm so sorry to have summoned you here at so late an hour."  
I gasped and my eyes opened, instantly recoiling from the soft, bright glow of torches. I blinked rapidly, stepping back when I realized how close the King is to me. He smiled coldly and ran his black eyes over me, though there was nothing but bland interest in his gaze. I folded my arms over myself, hiding my body under my thin nightclothes.  
"How…?"  
"You flew out of the High Lord's house then the Attor winnowed you once you were out of Night's borders. Simple really."  
I closed my mouth, my stomach threatening to empty. I busied myself by looking around at my surroundings. We were in a room, it looked to be within the castle. Two guards stood by the door I had just walked through. Their faces were impassive and showed no interest in me.  
There wasn't any furnishing in the room at all except for…  
I paled and fought the urge to make a ward against evil on my skin.  
The Cauldron sat on a dias in the center of the room, large and looming.  
The Cauldron that Prythian was forged from, that the first Fae crawled from and the creatures that filled our world were made in.  
"Your new acquaintances are searching for this," the King said, walking over to Cauldron. He didn't touch it, but looked at it with a hungry gleam in his eyes.  
"They plan to fix the wall, don't they?"  
I nodded and swallowed a few times. I had heard the talk. Though it wasn't directly said, I did recognize the Book of Breathings that they were searching for. Half of it anyway.  
"Yes. They're looking for something that...that they need to use to wield the Cauldron," I said, my mind not fully my own. The King cast me a glance and nodded.  
"The book of Breathings, yes. I'm aware that they're looking for it, though one doesn't need it to use the Cauldron, as you'll see tonight."  
The King pulled a ring from his tunic and I felt my stomach roll when I realized it was Amarantha's prize. Jurian's eye encased in a ring she wore all the time. The brown eye whirled almost wildly inside the ring and it cast it's gaze to me, then to the Cauldron as if it somehow knew what the King planned.  
Next the King pulled out a little finger bone, also one of Amarantha's prizes and he placed it in his hand with the ring.  
"Tonight, my dear, I've brought you to witness the Cauldron at work," The King said. He smiled at me and extended a hand towards me, beckoning me to him. I walked over, my feet feeling like lead as I stood by the King.  
"How?" I asked, though I already had a good guess as to what the King was planning.  
The King looked at me and smiled, his plainly handsome face looking so frightening in that moment.  
"Just watch."  
So I watched. I watched as the King took the ring and the bone and dropped them in the Cauldron. They plopped quietly in whatever liquid was inside the massive Cauldron. The King walked around the Cauldron, his hand traced the rim of the Cauldron and I saw him whispering too quiet for me to hear. I felt my hair stand on end, like when lightning strikes nearby and there's static in the air.  
The King stopped his circling and backed away from the Cauldron. There was a bubbling sound and I smelled….I smelled death.  
I took a step back, gooseflesh running over my arms. The smell was pungent, cold and it filled the room almost choking me. The King still wore his ghostly smile as he walked back to the Cauldron and he turned to me, beckoning me over.  
"Myriad, come."  
I obediently walked over, despite wanting to run as far away from the humming Cauldron as I possibly could.  
The guards by the door moved forward when the King nodded and the seized the Cauldron, pushing it over so that it spilled forth it's liquid and a body along with it.  
The Cauldron rocked back and settled down. I looked down at the male on the floor, stepping away from him. He was naked and still, not a breath came from him. The King walked over to him and bent down in the wet, right next to the male.  
"Jurian, wake."  
The male took a shuddering breath and looked up, his brown eyes wide, searching in a wild manner. His brown hair clung to his face like a helmet and he raised his hand to his face, staring at it like it was something foreign.  
Gods. It was Jurian. The Jurian from the War. He was...alive. Resurrected by the Cauldron and whatever unearthly spell the King had uttered.  
He looked at the King, then turned his head to look at me. I stepped back, wishing desperately to disappear. Jurian's eyes followed and he looked at me, taking in my appearance. He coughed then, violently, his whole body going into the action as he vomited up liquid. The King clicked his tongue and swung a blanket over Jurian's shoulders. I hadn't even noticed the King had it.  
"Myriad, help him up," he said to me. I obeyed and put my hands under Jurian's arms and pulled on him to get him to stand. He was weak though and leaned almost fully on me. I staggered under his weight but stayed upright, looking to the King.  
"Sir?"  
The King nodded to the door.  
"Follow me."  
He led me down a hallway until we came to a room already prepared for Jurian it seemed. There was a bed and a male fae standing in the corner by a table with herbs and tools on it. He was a healer. I heaved Jurian onto the bed and stepped back. Jurian stared at me, his brown eyes wide as the took me in. I swallowed nervously and averted my gaze to the floor. I jumped when Jurian grabbed my wrist and I looked back at him, pulling my hand back. Jurian didn't let go, he was strong, strong for a human. Was he even human?  
"Who are you?"  
Jurian's voice was a rasp, from years of disuse, I wouldn't have expected it to be anything else.  
"Myriad," I replied quietly and jerked my hand back. "Let go. You're hurting me."  
Jurian let go and his hand fell back, though he still watched me intently.  
"I don't remember you," was all he said before the healer came over and began to examine Jurian.  
The King took me by my elbow then and led me from the room.  
"So you see Myriad," he said easily. "You don't need that book to wield the Cauldron, though it is a good item to possess. If they do manage to find the book, I'd like to have it."  
I nodded and looked up at the King.  
"The human queens? What about them?"  
The King laughed.  
"The Highlord's shadowsinger has been sniffing around them and their courts but he can't quite get in. Follow him, work with him and report back to me. Let him know about the Cauldron as well, I want them to know I have it. You'll know what to do."  
I felt that black oil shift in my chest, planted there by the King himself, binding me to his will.  
"What about Jurian?"  
The King looked back to the door.  
"Rhysand has his human emissary, I have mine. Go now, Myriad. You'll remember none of this but what I've told you to do."  
I felt my mind begin to fog as before and my vision faded right as someone took my arms and winnowed me away.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't posted on here in ages!!! I kinda forgot to in all honesty, which is horrible. But anyway, I promise I'll be more active! I have many chapters ready to post.

I was exhausted. Every muscle in my body felt as if they had been used and abused to the point of near destruction. My mind too was a mess of muddled thoughts, unable to articulate and process any intelligent words.   
   That was when I had glanced at myself in the mirror for the first time in months.

   I didn't know what I expected. I know I didn't expect to see the unrecognizable person staring back at me with hollow sunken eyes.

   Gods I looked horrible. 

   My skin was pale, my face was thin, sunken, my hair hung in dull curls around my face. I looked more like a madwoman than I did anything else. My usually full lips seemed thin, making the frown I wore seem deeper. 

    I sighed and dipped my face into a sink full of water, , letting the cool liquid wake me up fully. I hadn’t slept that night. I had dreams, terrible dreams plagued by a cold darkness and piercing brown eyes.

   I pulled my hair back away from my face and walked back to my bed to pull my boots on. It was after dawn and Amren was specific about getting to her damned practice sessions. I don’t think the female ever slept.

   The cold mountain air hit me hard, the icy blast waking me up fully. I grumbled, hunger gnawing the insides of my belly. I had skipped breakfast again, because breakfast meant people and I had no interest to see  _ anyone.  _   
   I spotted Amren setting up Cassian’s damn siphon on the ground in the far training ring. Cassian was lounging not far away, munching on some sort of scone. I cursed him under my breath as he gave me a smirk and continued to eat. I figured out why Amren had allowed him to stay. She knew he pissed me off. Maybe she thought anger would be a motivation. So far her plan hadn’t worked and I still couldn’t draw up my magic. Even my flames seemed to wither away these days.

   Amren walked back to the edge of the circle and looked up at me, her eyes narrowing. I snarled at her and took off my jacket, flinging it to the ground.

  “Go take a seat and get ready for another non-eventful morning,” I drawled, cracking my fingers. Amren said nothing as she looked me over, her nostrils flaring. Even Cassian seemed to look guarded, curious, but guarded.

    It was an act, I told myself as I walked to the center of the ring, staring at the siphon no more than five feet from me.

   “Remember to breath and be patient,” I heard Amren say. I snorted and blocked her out of my head and stared at the red siphon, softly glowing against the sand. Again, just like countless other times, I reached out, digging deep inside me for the power I knew I had, to strip the siphon bare.

   I met nothing. There was nothing there.

   I dug deeper, sweat beading on my upper lips, rolling down my temples. 

   The siphon glowed in answer, taunting me. I snarled and walked forward and gave it a kick, sending it flying to the edge of the circle.

   “This is a waste of my time.”

  I wiped my face on my sleeve and turned back to Amren. She was looking at me through narrow eyes and I thought I saw a flicker in her jaw.

   “You’re not trying.”

   I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

   “Believe me, I am.”

   Amren shook her head, her dark hair brushed her chin as she moved.

   “No, you’re not. You’re holding yourself back. Why?”

    I grit my teeth and said nothing. Amren walked over and retrieved the siphon from where I had kicked it and she set it back in the sand where she had it before. I looked at the siphon, then at Amren.

    Amren leveled her gaze at me, making me feel tiny and insignificant.   
   “Do it.”

    I felt my stomach roil as I walked to stand in front of the siphon, my feet feeling as though they were made of lead. I looked down at the siphon, seeing my pale face reflected back up at me. 

    “Do it.”

    I stared at my reflection, not seeing it in the siphon but in the blue eyes of that Summer court Fae almost twenty years ago.

 

_     “Do it.” _

_     I was staring at the trembling female, her wide blue eyes looking at me with unfiltered terror. She was bound, her hands bound behind her back with rough rope, digging into her chesnut skin, drawing blood. _

_    Amarantha was behind me, on hand tracing along my neck. She brought her lips to my ear, her breath tickled me. _

_    “Do it Myriad.” _

_     The Fae kneeling before me trembled and let out a hiccuping sob as I raised my hand towards her. My hand was shaking as much as the young Fae was. I was as scared as she was. Frightened of the monster that lurked beneath my skin, that whispered in my ear to drink from the Fae’s soul. It was greedy, but I was scared and I didn’t want to let it out.  _

_     Amarantha’s hand tightened on my neck, her dark nails digging in so hard that they drew blood. _

_    I began to sob and the Fae beneath me wailed. _

_    The monster leapt from me, dark threads that spun towards the female, diving into her eyes, nose, mouth….oh gods it was everywhere. it explored the female’s insides, her powers. She was so young, so innocent and the monster hungrily devoured her water, her beautiful water that she had used to heal the people in her village with. People who were now dead, who I had helped slaughter. _

_    I cried, telling her to be quiet, that if she would just shut up then she wouldn’t feel it. Her screams turned unearthly, they were screams that no fae should ever make.  My blackness drank it all, her terror, her magic. It feasted on it. _

_    I was on the floor with the female, my hands on her shoulders, looking into her glazed, dead eyes as the last of her magic was leached out, leached into a ring, an amethyst colored siphon that Amarantha had given me. My shackle.  _

_    “Shh….shh….” _

_    I was crying, shaking the girl, trying to make her shut the hell up. The last of her went with a dry gasp and she fell against me, her heart giving out. _

_    I sobbed into the dead female’s hair as my monster retreated inside me and shut its cage door. I rocked the young female who I had so cruelly snuffed out.  _

_    I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up at Amarantha. She had her arms outstretched, like a mother to comfort her child. I let the female drop and I flung myself into Amarantha’s arms, letting that wicked fae hug me, kiss me and rock me like an inconsolable child. It wasn’t real. She didn't care.  _

 

   I was on my hands and knees, looking down at the sand beneath me. My face was wet and I realized it was wet with tears. My tears.

   I was crying. The siphon lay shattered in a circle around me and the sand nearest the siphon was turned to glass from my fire that no doubt had raged. 

   I vomited there, whatever was left in my stomach was hurled up. I vomited again and again till my whole body threatened to fall to pieces. Gods, I was cold. Shaking.

   There was silence. I didn't even hear the birds singing. I had done that. My monster had scared even the birds into silence because I had given in.

_ See? See how good it feels to let me out? I want to play. You never let me out. _

__ “Shut up.”

    I struggled not to vomit again as I slammed my hands over my ears so I wouldn’t heard that voice.

_ Let me out Myriad! Let me out to feed. I’m hungry. So hungry. You’ve starved me. How could you be so cruel to me? _

__ “Cruel?”

   I looked inside myself, seeing that mass of swirling black, like a fire of darkness, ready to consume. Where I had kept it in its cage...its cage was in pieces. It was free.

   I had no ring, no siphon to keep it contained, keep the power contained so I didn't feed the magic. 

   “Myriad!”

  I felt a sharp slap across my face and I focused on Amren’s face, bent down in front of me.

   That was when the anger simply exploded from me. My magic, my power just exploded. Amren raised a shield against me, one old and powerful from her bottomless pit of magic, one that matched my own.

   I screamed, the sound long and hideous, as tortured as my soul.

   “You  _ used _ me!! You used me!!”

    I didn't care when I let my wings fly out behind me, my golden wings now burning with Autumn’s flames. My father’s flames. Everything was burning and the monster inside me was laughing at my destruction. It leapt from me, tendrils of choking black power racing for Amren. They were deflected off Amren’s shields but I didn't even have the sense to be afraid. She was death and I was a monster that fed off death.

    I screamed again and my monster came back for me, spinning itself like a blanket around me. I hunched down and fell to my knees in a cocoon of fire and darkness. 

    I wanted to die. 

    Amren had used me in my weakness to unleash hell upon the world. A hell that had taken me one hundred and fifty years of practice to contain. Something my mother feared and others lusted for. Amarantha, though she had loosed me on the world, she had also contained me. 

   Amren had released me.

   Then, in the darkness, there were hands on my face, cupping my cheeks. The hands were cold, rough. 

   “Myriad, open your eyes.”

   I opened my eyes and I saw brown eyes locked onto mine. 

   Azriel was before me on his knees, his black hair was whipping around his face. His shadows were around him, frantically surrounding the both of us. He looked so pale, I thought.

   Azriel shook me a little.

   “Myriad! Breath!”

   He was shouting.

   “If you don’t stop, you’ll kill yourself!” he shouted again, over the deafening darkness. I looked at my mate, my lips parted.

   “You are in control. It listens to you! Breath Myriad!  _ Breath _ !”

   I took a gasping breath, as if I had been holding my it under water. Azriel’s shadows sung down his arms and brushed my face, touching me with blessed coolness.

   The flames and darkness sputtered out and the monster retreated inside me, leaving just the two of us on our knees in the sand. Azriel brushed my hair from my face and looked to into my eyes with a steady gaze. I saw something in his eyes, pride perhaps? Maybe pity.

    “You’re in control. Not the cage, not it, not Amarantha. You are in control and no one can make you use it but you.”

    I let out a sob and covered my mouth, realizing what I had just done. Each one of Azriel’s siphons were shattered, his shadows surrounding him like a blanket. I looked behind him, at Cassian who was lowering his own shield all seven of his siphons were shattered off of him as well. Rhysand was there beside the warrior, he must have winnowed in when he felt the outburst. Amren was behind Rhysand, her eyes wide for once. 

    Where their shields had been, on the edge, the sand was turned to glass. All around Azriel and I, the sand was burnt glass. 

    I looked back to Azriel and caught his wrists.

    “Are you hurt?”

    I could have killed him. I could have killed my mate but he walked into my maelstrom to bring me out anyway.

    Azriel shook his head, his windswept hair flicked back over his forehead.

    “No.”

   I sagged then and Azriel caught me, lifting me up and against his chest with ease. He looked at Rhysand and Amren, his face a deadly calm.

   “No more of this. Amren,” he said coldly. “You were wrong. I’ll be teaching her. She stays with me.”

    I didn't know what the two had to say about it as I faded into unconsciousness.

                                                       ***   ***   ***

 

     I woke to a knock on a door and I cracked my eyes open, finding myself in a small bed, in an equally small, yet cozy room. There was a fire crackling in a corner, keeping the room very warm. I sat up, pushing a blanket off myself. I was in my clothes, though my boots had been taken off and laid somewhere. 

    The knock sounded again and I cleared my throat.

    “Come in.”

    The door opened and a female walked in. She was dark haired, dark eyed and her skin was also of a dark shade...almost black. I blinked and swung my feet over the side of the bed. She looked so familiar. One of Rhysand’s wraith twins.

    “Where am I?” I asked. The fae tilted her head and set a bundle of clothes she was carrying down on the bed. 

     “Azriel took you to his home,” she said. “My name is Nuala, by the way.”

    Her voice was quiet, wispy almost...no, wispy wasn’t the word. Light. Her voice was light and I knew her…

    “You were Under the Mountain,” I said. Nuala nodded and lit a few candles. I reached for an unlit candle and handed it to Nuala, silently offering my help.

   “A bath has been drawn for you. Bathe, get dressed. Azriel wishes to see you.”   
   I caught the female’s arm, my fingers just barely brushing her. She looked at the hand and I removed it, trying to show I meant no harm.

   “What time of day is it?”

   Nuala brushed a loose strand of hair behind her pointed ear.   
    “It’s been a day and a half since Azriel brought you here. He was strict on having no one disturb you till now. He wanted you to rest.”   
    I rubbed my chest through my shirt. Gods...that long? I probably smelled horrible. 

    I stood up, towering over Nuala. I made an effort to smile at her.

   “Thank you, Nuala.”

   Nuala simply dipped her head and walked from the room, pointing me to the bathroom. 

   I bathed for what seemed like hours, scrubbing my skin down, trying to get rid of the oily feeling from my skin. I sat in that water till it had grown cold and my teeth chattered, threatening to break my jaw. At last I got out of the tub, smelling as well as feeling fresh. 

    The clothes Nuala had left for me were still warm, all of them clean and well made. I dressed hurriedly, finding my boots under the bed. 

    When I had finished, I went to the door and crossed a small landing, taking a flight of steps downstairs where I could smell food. My belly growled loudly and I knew I had to eat. 

   I found the kitchen and Azriel was there, stirring a pot of stew. He looked over his shoulder when I came in and cast his dark eyes over me. I couldn’t help but feel my face heat up.

   Azriel was not in his leathers for once. He was simply dressed in a dark tunic, wearing equally dark pants. He had his siphons back, though he only wore two on his wrists.

   He nodded to the table, still looking me over. I pushed my mop of hair back and took a seat, concentrating on the bowls Azriel had set there.

   “How are you feeling?”

    I shrugged.

    “Hungry. Tired. Ashamed.”

   I folded my hands in my lap and bit my lip. I had worked out apologies and explanations in my head while I had bathed. None of them seemed right.

   “I didn't mean to react that way. It snapped before I could control it. I’m sorry for...for…”   
   I faltered, my throat closing up. 

   The silence was interrupted when Azriel brought the pot to the table and set it down, filling both the bowls with the thick stew. 

   “It was a defense mechanism. Your power was protecting you from the threats around it.”

   I shook my head, my appetite gone.

   “No. It wanted to consume.”

   Azriel picked up a spoon and stirred it in his stew.

   “That may be so,” he said quietly. “But your fire, it contained the magic. It kept it from reaching out. I think if you truly wanted, you could have sucked us all dry. You didn't, thank the Cauldron for that. If you had, we would have been dead and so would you. Your power was eating you up.”

   I fingered my spoon and felt ready to vomit again. 

   “I...I saw something, Azriel,” I said. I looked up at his, suddenly angry with him. No, not angry at him. Just...angry. I knew Azriel wasn’t stupid. He was a spymaster, a shadowsinger and he knew things that others didn't. I knew he knew about me, about what I did. What I was capable of. Yet he was still kind. Why?

  “When Amren told me to do it...to drain the siphon, I didn't see the siphon. I saw a female, a girl. Amarantha had me drain her. I was a coward and so I did it. I followed her orders and I murdered and drained fae after fae for her.  _ Why _ do you want me in your house? Why do you reach out to someone like me? I’m a murderer.”

   I was clenching the spoon so tight that it had bent in my hand. Azriel just watched me.

   “You know what I did to the Summer court for her? I killed for her. And those that didn't have the swift mercy of death were brought before me in Amarantha’s fucking experiments! I was her experiment and after everything she made me do, I still fucked her! I still ran to her arms crying because I thought it would erase those screams, the looks of terror I got right before my magic consumed them. I am used, I am nothing but a tool to her, to Hybern, to you damned people!”

    I threw the spoon down and put my head in my hands. I could feel tears welling in my eyes and I wiped them away. I didn't want to cry in front of Azriel.

    I felt foolish. 

    “Myriad, we...I don’t want to use you as a tool,” Azriel said quietly. “You’re scared and its okay to be scared. But you’re also holding yourself back in a way that can and will hurt you eventually. Amren wasn’t trying to use you, she was trying to get you to use control, though her methods about it weren’t right. Not what you need.”

   I felt Azriel take my hands and pull them down from my face. My lip quivered dangerously and I shrunk slightly from Azriel’s piercing gaze.

   He looked so serious and honest that I instantly felt horrible for snapping at him. I blinked, feeling a tear roll down my cheek and plop on the table.

    “I’m sorry...I’m not used to...to all this,” I said. I finally met Azriel’s eyes, holding his gaze as long as I could before I dropped my eyes again.

    Azriel caught my chin and lifted my face up, he had the barest trace of a smile on his lips.

   “You have nothing to be sorry for. Not to me. To others, sure, but that’s between you and them. You owe me no apology. I’m going to teach you control, Myriad. We’ll learn this together, okay?”

    I nodded and my mouth turned up at the corners. Azriel seemed pleased he let go of my chin. 

   “Good. Eat, rest. We’ll start later.”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
